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rohad93 · 4 years

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Moonlit Masquerade: Ch 11

Amity allows herself to be led out onto the dance floor and takes hold of one of her date’s hands, the other on her shoulder while their other arms rests on her hip.

If she’s honest, Amity doesn’t expect much. She’s been forced to dance with the children of other wealthy families at these kinds of things before, and while their technical dancing is always superb, it always feels so stiff and wrong.

She never had, nor ever would have chemistry with them, like she never had with anyone at dancing, except Luz. Again she feels guilty at the thought, right until they start to move.

Luz smiles as she leads them across the dance floor in quick, smooth steps. She could dance pretty well if she said so herself, but she might have also been fitting in some formal practice with Lillith the last two days. Unlike Eda, Lillith is an exacting taskmaster of a teacher, but she won’t deny she learned a lot and moderately well in such a short period of time.

Amity is looking at her with quiet wonder as they gracefully spin across the floor and Luz grins at her. They don’t need to say much of anything, they seem to be in perfect sync and Amity wouldn’t know what to say even if she did.

The tempo picks up and they follow suit, feet barely touching the floor as they glide around the room.

Luz is deliriously happy at the way they fit together and just the chance to touch Amity without her freaking out or tossing food halfway across a room.

She loosens her grip on Amity’s waist and she takes the hint, letting go of her shoulder as she spins her away, the skirt of her dress billowing up around her knees before she’s tugged back into her partner’s arms with a flourish that makes her grin.

Their steps are effortless and she feels lighter than she has in a long time.

She’s not even vaguely aware that people have started watching them or some other couples have moved out of their way. Right now, they have eyes only for each other.

“Who is that with, Mittens?” Edric asks his twin as they watch the two girls twirl effortlessly around the dance floor.

“Dunno… but I have a pretty good idea.” She smiles but says nothing else and Edric hums at his sisters’ unusual quiet on the matter. if Emira isn't telling she must have a good reason.

The song is nearing its end, building to a crescendo when the unthinkable happens.

The high polished floor has chosen this moment to make itself known.

Amity knows what happens the exact moment it does.

She slips.

The heel of her shoe begins to slip forward out from under her and she braces herself for the impact as she falls backward.

It never comes.

Luz sees it happening too and acts with lightning reflexes gained from years of being a klutz.

Just as Amity begins to fall backward she wraps her arm around her waist and twists them around, redirecting the momentum and straightens out their connected hands, bringing her to a sudden stop just as the song finishes and to the rest of the party, it appears they have just performed the most amazing dip in the history of dancing.

Amity blinks up at her with wide eyes, their noses almost touching as she’s held aloft and Luz grins and winks before pulling her back to stand.

Several people clap and whistle at the performance and Luz smiles nervously, giving a little bow before they scurry off the dance floor.

“Are you okay?” she asks Amity quietly.

“F-fine, I’m fine…,” she says, but her heart is pounding in her chest.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Luz asks head cocked.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” she smiles and Luz grins before trotting off to the refreshment table.

Amity takes the moment alone to try and bring her heartbeat back under control, hand pressed to her chest.

Her fingers brush the brooch, pinned her dress and her heart flutters.

Stars, she's got to get herself under control.

"Here ya go!"

She jerks when her date has returned and is holding a glass of punch.

"Thanks…" she takes it and their fingers brush.

"Do you like it?" she suddenly asks and Amity is confused for a second before she realizes that she means the brooch, she must have seen her playing with it.

"It's beautiful, you really shouldn't have." She reaches up, fingers brushing the gemstone.

Luz shrugs, smiling.

"When I saw it I thought of you," she explains like it's the most obvious answer in the world, her brown eyes shine in the light of the fire from a nearby sconce and they take on a molten glow.

Amity swallows thickly.

"Thank you, for all of it. The flowers and the tart… it really made my day." She smiles.

"I saw you eating it at lunch," she admits. "I'm glad it made you happy." She smiles shyly as she shuffles back and forth from foot to foot and suddenly Amity is reminded of another brown-eyed girl who can't stay still and instantly feels bad for thinking of Luz, especially when she's having such a good time here with this sweet girl in front of her that she knows likes her.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure!"

"How did you know about the tarts?" she asks. She's been wondering for days now.

"Oh…," she hums, trying to decide if she should say. She doesn't think there's any harm in it. "Emira mentioned it one day, while we were talking."

That answered one question but gave rise to several more.

"Are you an illusion track student?"

"Nope" she pops the 'p' with a playful grin.

"Do we have classes together?"

"Maybe," she drawls, eyes twinkling. Amity finds herself smiling back. So that's how it was going to be.

"What track are you in?" she asks instead.

"Impatient aren't we, Miss. Blight?" She sidesteps the question with a coy smile and again familiarity is tugging at the back of Amity's mind.

Normally she'd be annoyed at the avoidance of her questions but she’s intrigued.

"You're not going to tell me anything are you?" She rests her free hand on her cocked hip and her date only continues to smile.

Luz is having too much fun with this.

"Depends on the question, It is a masquerade, ya know?" she teases.

Amity hums thoughtfully to herself as she tries to think of a question that couldn't identify her date but will give her some information.

Before she can think of something the current song playing comes to an end and in a puff of smoke her siblings have appeared again on the dais.

"If we might have everyone's attention for a moment," Edric begins.

"We're going to play a little game," Emira finishes.

"What's going on?" Luz asks and Amity shakes her head. Whatever her siblings are up to, she has not been informed of.

Looks like they had decided to take a chance on their parents finding out and have gone off-script. She's not at all surprised.

Her siblings just can't contain themselves at times. It's why they're always in trouble… she definitely doesn't like the impish grin on the twins' faces, she knows it all too well.

She grabs her date’s hand and she looks at her questioningly.

"We should go…" she tugs her away from the dance floor and toward another set of doors.

"What, why?" Luz blinks but allows herself to be drug through the doors out onto a large porch with a short stone wall enclosing it that overlooks Blight manors, large and immaculate backyard, which is bathed in bright blue moonlight.

"Trust me, whatever they've planned is not going to go well." She rolls her eyes. As if to punctuate her words there is suddenly a loud commotion from inside.

"You're probably right…," Luz mutters, looking back in the direction of the party over her shoulder.

Amity leads them over to a large patio set and seats herself in one of the chairs.

Luz opts for hopping on top of the stone wall to face her and Amity smiles.

"You're really not going to tell me anything about yourself are you?" She asks once they're settled.

"I'll tell you anything you want that doesn't tell you who I am," is her reply.

"Oh, how bout we play twenty questions?" she asks excitedly.

"What's that?"

"It's a game, we just take turns asking each other questions," She says.

"Okay."

"Okay,...um…" Luz taps her chin thoughtfully, wracking her brain. "Favorite color?" She settles on.

"Pink, but I feel like you might have known that," Amity answers, giving her date a sly look.

"I might have had a guess." She shrugs. "Your turn."

Amity hums thoughtfully. Talking of siblings...

“Do you have any siblings?” she finally chooses.

“Naw, only child.”

“I can’t even imagine what that’s like…,” Amity huffs with a rueful smile, glancing across the lawn as the sounds of chaos inside rages on.

“Kind of quiet, boring.”

Amity blinks, gaze going back to her companion.

“What about your parents?”

“It’s just me and my mom, and she tries, but she works all the time, so usually I’m on my own.” Luz shrugs, frowning. She hasn’t ever really talked to anyone about this before. Especially not her mom, it would only make her feel bad.

Amity hadn't ever really thought much about what her life would be like if she were an only child, having to carry all the weight of her parents' expectations. It probably would be kind of lonely too.

"My parents are usually gone too… but it's probably for the better," she mumbles the last part, never having intended to give it voice.

Luz wants to ask but she remembers what Willow said about Mr and Mrs Blight not being the most affectionate, so it might be a sore spot for her crush. She chooses to ignore it, for now.

"You asked two questions so now I get to ask two," she says instead.

"I guess that's fair…" Amity nods.

"Why did you choose the abominations track?"

"My parents" Amity shrugged. "Abomination magic is one of the hardest to learn, so it's the most prestigious…," she trails off.

Luz screws up her mouth, sensing a theme and decides she wants to stay clear of any topics that might involve the Blight parents.

"How come you dye your hair?" as soon as the question leaves her mouth she knows it's the wrong thing to ask.

Amity is making a face, lips pursed.

She's quiet for a long few minutes and Luz is sure her question is going to go unanswered until Amity finally speaks.

"My mom makes me."

Luz can't win for losing it seems…

They're alone on the porch, and for reasons she can't explain she feels safe enough to talk about this with the girl sitting in front of her.

"She likes me and the twins to match, so I have to dye it green." she's pointedly not looking at Luz, who bites her tongue;hard.

She wants to say so many things, like how wrong that is, and if Amity doesn't want to color her hair she shouldn't have to, but she doesn't, because she realizes, for once, this is a situation out of her depth. As with her own mom forcing her to go to a boring summer camp to try and make her a little more normal.

Living with Eda the last almost two months had given her more autonomy than she's ever known before, but Eda isn't her mom, and while she takes care of her, she's more like a wacky aunt, who lets her do things her mother would probably have a stroke over. So sometimes she forgets that they’re kids, and subject to the whims of their parents.

Luz tries to overlook it by knowing that her mom just wants what's best for her, even if she doesn't like it, but it doesn't feel that way with Amity and Mrs. Blight, but Luz knows enough to know that she doesn't know enough to say anything about it; so she doesn't.

Instead she says: "I bet your brown hair is really pretty."

Which seems to be the right thing to say if the way Amity is now looking at her is any indication.

She smiles and reaches up to brush some free strands of hair away from her face. The pink of her cheeks not entirely hidden by her mask.

"Thanks"

Amity shared something that Luz thinks is probably personal, so it only seems right to share something back.

"My mom made me go to this boring summer camp to try and make me more normal," she says.

"Normal?" Amity's eyes narrow behind her mask.

"Yeah, at my old school everyone thought I was weird, so I didn't have any friends and kept getting in trouble for being… a lot." She shrugs.

“Weird how?”

“I just didn’t like the things other kids liked, or I guess actually the stuff I like is weird to them. I made a model of a griffin and everyone freaked out about the spider breath…”

“But they do have spider breath, that's anatomically correct…”

“I know, right?” Luz threw up her hands. “Then I auditioned for the school play…” She tells the story and Amity is trying to contain her laughter behind a hand.

“It was just some sausages!” She stuck out her tongue. “But apparently my death scene was ‘disruptive and overly dramatic’.” she finger quotes with an annoyed look.

“That’s rather tame for a play at Hexside, last year the play lead was eaten by a griffin.”

“Yikes…”

“They got him back… eventually.” She makes a face.

“So what you’re saying is don’t audition for any of the school plays?” Luz laughed.

“Not unless being eaten by a griffin sounds appealing to you.” She smirked.

“Noted” Luz holds up a finger.

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“You must have been lonely…” Amity breaks the quiet and Luz looks at her questioningly. “Not having any friends or siblings and your mom is always gone…,” she says peering sadly at the girl across from her.

Luz looks down at her feet as she kicks them back and forth, probably scuffing the backs of her brightly polished shoes as they hit the stone wall she’s sitting on.

“Yeah…,” she says quietly, glancing back up to see those bright gold eyes looking at her and she taps her fingers on the cold hard stone beneath them nervously. “It was pretty lonely,” she admits.

“Are you still lonely?” Amity asks.

Slowly Luz shakes her head.

“Not anymore.” she smiles, and it’s more subdued than any of the other bright smiles of grins Amity has seen this evening but it has an undeniable sincerity to it that makes her smile back.

“We should probably head back inside…,” she finally says after a while and when she’s noticed that the commotion inside has been replaced with quiet music.

“Ah, right!” She vaults off the wall and lands with a quiet thump before offering Amity her arm. “Shall we?” she smiled in what she hoped was charming. She’s not sure if she pulled it off or not by the way Amity huffs a laugh at her, but she slips her arm through hers regardless.

“Lead the way.” she teases and Luz grins and even in the dark, it’s blinding.

#Lumity #Luz Noceda #Amity Blight #Edric Blight #Emira Blight #Lillith Clawthorne #Eda Clawthorne #fic #TOH #the owl house #Moonlit Masquerade

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colemacgrathtkz · 4 years

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First steps back

Standing once again on familiar turf, Luz Noceda took the biggest sigh of relief. Finally, she felt this all too familiar strength return to her.

Luz: "Boiling isles, how I've missed you!"

Taking in her scenery, the woods seemed like a fitting place to start.

Taking off her red beanie, she had to check something.

Luz: "Ok, just like I wanted..."

Clenching her hat and jacket, she prepared her "debut".

Luz: "After a tragic twist of fate, an empress will rise.

I have returned to this realm and let nothing stop me with my dark and forbidden magic."

Proceeding to cast off her outerwear, she used magic to carve her name into the ground.

Luz: "I am... Luz Noceda!"

Empress Luz: " Having fun?"

Stumbling back, she mistook the voice in her head for someone else. She should be used to her new state, thanks to Belos' magic. She couldn't help but still be uneasy about this situation. She picked herself up and remembered why she came back.

A new Luz, a fresh start. No time to reminisce about Eda or the town.

One thing was clear, her immense power had returned. But she hadn't forgotten about its price. She needed her staff.

Wherever it was, she had to get her hands on it.

Luz: "Ok, time to get serious! First, we have to..."

Never having forgotten the first time, she once again became paralyzed. But this time was different. She felt as though her body was buzzing. A purple smoke began to envelop her.

Luz: "What's happening?!"

Empress Luz: "We are being summoned!"

And with that, she was pulled through the air. Terrified, she shrieked towards her unknown destination.

[A few moments ago, at Belos' former castle]

Amity spent the last hour not doing much but stare at the staff in her hands. Still wearing the coven leader outfit, all alone in her quarters. She hoped to feel different one day.

A knock at the door snapped her back to reality. Already knowing who it was and what they wanted, she answered.

Willow( on the other side of the door): "Amity, it's almost time."

Things were different since Luz "went away". Amity's hair had gotten longer and more untamed.

Willow even got a new look.

Everyone who was involved in bringing down Belos and the former empress; received an unexpected response. Their reputation caused people to look to them for guidance and leadership. Due to her high class origins and role in the uprising, the pressure on Amity caused her to keep the coven position. Not everyone accepted, but Willow now served as Amity's personal aid.

Amity: "Yeah, I'm on my way."

Willow: "I'll be down the hall, if you need anything."

Everyday, Amity used the staff to check for Luz's possible return. Willow knew, she always did it at sunset.

Once again alone, she held up the staff.

Amity: "Luz Noceda, I order you here! Appear in this room!"

Dusk seemed to be the only thing approaching. Setting the staff aside, she locked the room with a barrier after stepping out.

[ Present time]

If she had decided not to attend the summit, she might have noticed the screaming projectile heading straight toward her balcony.

Breaking through the barrier(as if it were made of glass), Luz stumbled into the room. Not a very graceful entrance, but no one was around to see it.

Not knowing why or who brought her here, she prepared for any attack. Only to see the staff inside a case on top of a dresser.

Wasting no time, she broke the lock and achieved her prize.

Luz: "Great, now I just have to..."

Glancing to the side, she spotted a picture frame. Instantly piecing things together, she made her way out. But she couldn't help but turn back to take one last look at the photo.

The moment she picked up the grom memory, the door opened. Amity had decided last minute not to attend the summit. The two locked eyes and stared at each other, dumbfounded.

Luz made the first awkward move with a sheepish smile.

Luz: "Uh, hi."

Attempting to make the first strike, Luz's old friend tried summon an abomination. However, hesitation caused her concentration to break.

Amity(beginning to scream): " Willow!"

Quickly casting a spell on her, Amity fell asleep in Luz's arms.

Luz : "Nice to see you, too, Blight."

---------------------

The night sky was on full display.

She woke up to the sound of trees moving to the wind. She almost didn't recognize the latina with a red beanie. Long hair and new outerwear, things really did change.

Luz: "Sleep well, princesa?"

Something covered her mouth and shackles made of a blue light made her situation obvious.

Luz: "I'm going to take that off. I just wanted you to hear me out."

After having the tie removed, the captive witch remained on guard.

Amity( scowling): "So, which Luz am I talking to?"

Luz: "Wow, I haven't seen that face since I caught you reading to kids!"

No response.

Luz: "It's me, carino. The good witch, Luzura! But look at you! Still wearing the outfit. You grew out your hair, though. It looks good."

She tried to reach for her captive's cheek, only to have her flinch.

Amity: "Stop it! You're trying too hard."

Dropping her cheery mask, Noceda sat down next to her green haired "friend".

Luz: "Ok, you caught me. It really is me. I just haven't felt like my old self for a while."

Trying to ease the tension, a wry smile appeared alongside the empress' staff.

Luz: " It might have something to do with this."

Amity lunged for it but was thwarted with one hand.

Luz: " Not yet, I want to show you something first. Think of this our first date."

Amity: " We're not...!"

Luz: "Hold that thought!"

Wrapping one arm around her, the former empress made sure her coven leader was close.

Luz: "Check this out! Lumity, rise!"

Amity: " Lumi-?"

Rocketing into the air, the two traveled the night sky.

Luz: "Guess who mastered flying? This girl."

Amity: "How did you...?"

Luz: "One of the perks that comes with being bound to magic. I learn new spells super quick now."

Amity: "No, how did you come up with Lumity?"

Luz: "It's our ship name. You like it? Because this ship is sailing."

Arriving at their grom tree, Luz landed by the greenery. Planting the staff into the ground, she took Amity's arm.

Luz: "Right this way, my dear."

About halfway towards the tree, Luz activated a plant glyph by Amity's feet.

While her captive's legs became tangled with vines, Luz pressed onward.

Removing some bark, she revealed a portal light emitting from within.

Amity: "Wait, I destroyed the door!"

Luz: "Please hold all questions until after tonight. Here's where I keep my promise."

The plant glyph withered away along with the shackles. Luz held out her hand towards her partner.

Luz: "This is your choice. Do you still want the staff or...?"

Since they were separated, Amity dreamt about Luz's return. But she'd also had nightmares of this exact dilemma.

Authors note:

Again, this is just my unofficial contribution to the Broken! Luz AU. I wasn't planning to continue this, at first. But I kept thinking about it. I enjoy a good corrupted protagonist trope.

Previously. Next?

#lumity #the owl house #amity blight #luz noceda #toh #Lumity #Broken! Luz AU #Story I pieced together

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op-peccatori · 5 years

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just your friendly neighbourhood demon | Incubus?Lucien (MLQC)

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Incubus?Lucien/Witch!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: explicit sex, semi-public sex, sex with demons, magical adjustments

Summary: You’ve barely left your apartment since your breakup a month ago. To get you back in the game and your mind off your disappointing relationship, your friends decide to enlist some help – the demonic kind.

a/n: can u tell I just finished the second season of the chilling adventures of Sabrina? it's heavily inspired by the show.

music:

Animals by Maroon 5

Fetish by Selena Gomez

You stand still amongst the crowd, bodies clothed in silk and lace twirling around you, the chatter a muted sound in the background when you see him.

A feeling of trepidation crawls up your belly and the bodice of your gown feels suffocating all of a sudden. You glance around the great hall wildly, hoping to catch a glimpse of your friends, the ones who dragged you here with promises of unholy merriment and daiquiris. The ceiling, enchanted to reflect a cloudless midnight sky, bathes the room in soft moonlight, adding to the shadowy and mystifying atmosphere of the room. All you see are masks, framing intoxicated eyes, some of them reflecting the faux hellfire hovering within antique lanterns.

You don’t see your friends, but do you manage to lock eyes with the source of your panic who, despite the delicate mask covering your face that clearly wasn’t doing its job, recognizes you at once. He turns to say something to the girl next to him and as they both look at you, you turn around and half-sprint towards the nearest hallway.

‘Vivienne. She’s from the Eastern Coven.’

It stings, even though it’s been weeks since your relationship ended. It’s the ball of hurt and bitterness swirling in your stomach, that prevents you from turning around at the call of your name, that has your fingers twitching with the urge to hex the person you know is following you.

His voice is getting nearer, and you can’t help but turn around to check if he’s really coming after you – he is, but he’s struggling to move past the dancing couples and as you turn around with your heart in your throat, you manage to run into a wall. You're startled by the sudden appearance of a dead-end, but slender fingers curl around your forearm to let you know it’s not a wall that stopped your escape in its tracks.

“Ah, forgive me. Are you alright?” A voice richer than vintage vine at your ear, and cologne that reminds you distinctly of rain, and smoke are the first things that register. Warm eyes like amethysts, framed by inky bangs and black lace are next. You’re aware that he’s waiting for a response, his gentle smile slipping into something quizzical at your gaping. This is not someone you've seen before.

“Hey, ___!”

Oh no. The man in front of you glances at the one behind you before returning his gaze to your now resigned expression. You turn around with a grimace, hoping your reluctance to talk to him isn’t too obvious, even if it's to be expected.

“Oh, hi, Kyle,” you say, defeated. “Sorry, I was-“

“In a hurry to find me,” the stranger cuts in with a disarming smile aimed at your ex-boyfriend, whose eager expression fades at the sight of your unexpected companion. Kyle’s eyes follow the other man's arm as it slides loosely around your waist. "We were in the middle of a game."

“Oh. Right. And you are?” Everyone knows what kind of games people play here.

“Um, this is-“

“Lucien.” You’re weak with gratitude when the stranger, Lucien, introduces himself and offers a hand to Kyle, who takes it with mild reluctance. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise. I’m Kyle,” he says before glancing at you as if expecting you to add something, which you're certainly not obligated to do. He tugs at the high collar of his cape when all you do is lean into Lucien’s side with a smile. “Um, yeah, I just wanted to say hi. Enjoy the party. And your game, I guess.”

‘I guess?’ You watch him leave with silently, knowing he's bothered by you coming here with someone. You marvel at how oblivious he can be, to be so baffled by it when he could be seen with different witches even just a week after you ended things for good. And you know that there was a time when the slight slouch in his back could tip you off to his bad mood and have you running around trying to fix whatever had him in a sulk. You had made countless comforting charms, helped him with ridiculous missions and saved his ass from being eviscerated that one time he pissed off your High Priestess – only to get an 'I don't think we're compatible' the one time you didn't show up to watch his band play.

Ugh, warlocks.

“Charming man,” Lucien comments when Kyle is out of hearing range, skulking back to the girl he’d been talking to earlier. You can’t help but laugh a little self-deprecatingly.

“Yes, well, I certainly thought so, until a few weeks back,” you admit with a sigh. Then, realising you’re still leaning into him as if you haven’t just met him, you step away hastily. He looks disappointed at that, and you're quick to change the subject. “Oh, yes, thank you. I really didn’t want to face him on my own." The warmth in his smile tugs at your withered heart-strings.

"I think he should be the one saying that, but I suppose it is usually the ignorant ones who are brimming with false confidence."

"I really owe you one, huh?" You're startled by the shyness in your own smile. Something about him feels overwhelming, as if it's being kept at bay so he can blend in. With the sleek grey suit he's wearing, you think he never had a chance. Talk about tall, dark and wicked. Kiki's going to flip when she sees him.

“I’m honoured to have gotten the chance to come to your aid. And, to be honest, I can't help but be glad your former lover is an idiot. He did chase you into my arms after all." The curve of his mouth is sly as he watches the way your cheeks flush. "I’m Lucien, by the way.”

“I’m ___.” You offer him your hand, but you don’t expect the way he maintains eye contact as he ducks his head to press his lips to the top of your hand, his half-lidded gaze doing funny things to you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he cast a spell on you. Your heart throbs to an unsteady rhythm as he lifts his hand to skin a finger along the edge of your mask.

"I like your mask."

"I like your mask too," you tell him, your smile hinting at mischief. "It's quite...infernal."

His low chuckle, accompanied by the crook of his arm offered to you, makes you fight the urge to check for hexes. “Well, ___, since I’m supposed to be your plus one...can I get you a drink?”

As you blush and say yes, curling your arm around his, you miss the two witches watching you both with triumphant grins. Willow clamps a hand over Kiki’s mouth as you pass by the pillar behind which they’ve concealed themselves, biting back her own squeal when Lucien looks straight at them and winks. They undo the concealment spell and school their expressions into something more innocent than smug as their High Priestess raises a brow at their antics.

"But Willow, how did you get him to make a deal without payment?" Kiki asks curiously, pouring them both some toxic punch. Willow shrugs a bit uneasily, glancing back at at the bar where you're standing next to your new friend, an easy smile she hasn't seen in weeks lighting up your face.

"He just said there's no need for it, and that he'll take care of her." They both look at each other at that.

"Is that...safe?" Kiki watches as Kyle continues to glance at you, looking grumpier with each look. "I think this could be good."

"I hope so. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

Three poison apple cocktails have you pleasantly buzzed, tucked away in one of the several alcoves with your unexpected date, giggling helplessly as he whispers awful things in your ears; secrets about the High Priests/Priestesses leave his mouth with no trace of fear, and when you ask if he isn't scared they'll hear him, the laugh that tears from his throat has you shivering under his arm. The window seat is big enough for four people, but with the way he's stretched out over the cushion, with you hidden away in his arms - it's clear there's no room for anyone else. The thick velvet curtains at the entryway are drawn to ensure others know not to disturb the occupants.

“No, darling, I don’t...fear your leaders," he finally answers as he nuzzles your neck. You take his hand in your own, playing with his fingers as you think. Witches and Warlocks are taught to fear their leaders, to respect them above all others, regardless of how undeserving they may be.

Your head tilts as you study him carefully. There is a single lantern in this corner, the hellfire burning softly as if in response to the intimate atmosphere. “You’re not from any of the covens, are you?”

“What do you think?” he asks, his breath cool against your cheek, mouth quirking up at the burning curiosity in your eyes.

A nonconformist. An independent warlock? Clearly held in high enough regard for no one to bat an eyelid at his presence here, but still. For him to also be familiar enough with the coven leaders to know their dirty secrets - he's no simple loner. His fingers trace unknown patterns at the base of your spine, brushing kisses like feathers on your temple.

“I don’t think you fear anyone in this room,” you say honestly, and when he presses his mouth to yours, it’s with a laugh that sinks into your bones like fire a glyph.

You're not sure how much time passes, but when you finally surface with a breathless the party has settled into a low chatter and you're vaguely surprised no one came to find you. Your mouth feels numb, and when you glance at your hazy reflection in the window, your lips are bitten a bright red, and blushing bruises decorate the tender spots below your jaw and along your neck. You feel as if you're just waking up, spotting your mask on the floor and feeling a cool breeze on your shoulders where the straps have been pulled down.

Lucien watches you as you take note of everything, including his abandoned topcoat, half-unbuttoned shirt and - the crinkles by his eyes as he smiles at you and the high, sculpted cheekbones you remembered kissing. His mask is off and with it, the protective shield of hidden faces and identities. You feel it - the strange tingling of your senses, the barely caught flashes in his eyes whenever you moaned as he was kissing you. It's all coming together in a picture you're not sure what to make of.

"What are you?" you ask shakily, mostly because of your own throbbing arousal that hasn't ebbed with your dawning suspicion. Thrilling fear curls around the base of your spine, edged with excitement. You don't feel like you're in danger, even if Lucien kisses with the intent to devour.

He smirks knowingly at your attempt to sound wary, when it's clear you're trying to keep from continuing your slow, delicious grind along his crotch. You're not sure what broke you out of the daze, and you're not sure if you're thankful for it.

"What do you think I am?"

You scrunch up your nose, yelping when he tries to nip at it. "My first guess would be...incubus?" You're not alarmed - dalliances with the so-called sex demons were not unheard of. They usually don't bother with witches or their counterparts because they never get a proper meal out of it, just a light snack at most, as your magic makes you resistant to their lure and traps. Questionable at the moment, but you're pretty sure you remember everything that happened despite the drugged feeling.

"I see."

You wait for him to continue but he only tilts his head with an innocent smile, his thumb tracing soft patterns on the inside of your wrist, your pulse fluttering under his touch. "Well? Am I right?" you ask, trying not to huff. Sex addicts or not, they're still powerful demons.

He shrugs. "Sure, let's go with incubus." Before you can express fully your outrage at his non-committal tone, he pulls you back into a loose embrace, making you stumble into his chest. "I believe the more important question is - will you allow me to make love to you tonight?" His words are blunt, delivered with a lascivious smile and a soft kiss below your ear. "Will you let me taste you?"

"Wh-what?" you ask, admittedly dumbly, not expecting him to want to continue where you left off. You brace your hand against his abdomen, feeling the muscle ripple as he continues to pull you closer. "But I'm a witch."

"A beautiful one," he agrees.

"You won't get anything out of it," you can't help but point out, lips parting when you feel his mouth on your skin, wet and wanting.

"On the contrary, darling," he whispers as he licks at the marks he'd sucked into your skin so fervently. "I think I might cry if you deny me."

You take a moment to weigh your options. On the one hand, dealing with demons always has some kind of consequences. You're not sure which one this is, how dangerous, how revered. On the other hand - he is very attractive, a fantastic kisser and clearly wants to take you to bed. You don't know anyone who's taken a demon as a lover personally but the one thing everyone agrees on is that you can't top sex with an incubus. They will show you a good time or they will take up unreasonable amounts of time trying.

And now that you're no longer with the man, you can admit to yourself that sex with Kyle was mediocre at best. Looking at it that way- you haven't had a good fuck in years.

"What if I choose to send you away?" you ask carefully. He stills at your question, his eyes burning violently as they meet yours. The air between you grows heavy, tense with his magic and yours as if dreading an explosion. He wants you, badly. And you’re confused at the strength of his desire, but flattered all the same.

"Then I will leave you here in peace," he answers slowly. The curl of his mouth is anything but pleased. "And hope that your fingers can give you at least a quarter of the pleasure that I can." You relax at his words, knowing that you won't be spending the night with your fingers buried in you. Not unless that's something he likes.

"And if we continue...will I get into trouble?" you ask, your answer evident by the way you move back into straddling his hips. He tugs at the zipper of your dress, unzipping it smoothly, caressing your smooth skin worshipfully.

"Only the good kind,” he promises. His eyes are fixated on the slow reveal of your breasts, and a string of unintelligible words leave his mouth when the top of your dress is bunched around your waist, leaving you half-exposed to his wolfish stare. The moment his mouth is on you, you know you won't be leaving this corner anytime soon. Struggling to tilt your head back as his tongue flicks at a taut nipple, you lift your hand towards the slim entryway, throwing every privacy spell you know at it. You feel the way Lucien smiles against your skin.

"Don't worry, darling. No one will be disturbing us - unlike some of my friends, I don't share." The last words are said in a growl that sends arousal thrumming within your bones, before he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh above your breast. You let your head fall back with a groan, uncaring of anything except his mouth and the friction provided by your sex grinding on his. He kisses you again and again until you're drunk on desire, moaning and writhing in his hold as two of his fingers push into you, sliding in and out easily within your slick walls while his tongue dances across your breasts, wanting to taste every inch of your skin.

Lucien tugs at the hem of your dress, pulling it up to your hips before he pushes you down onto the seat. He kneels between your legs, admiring the flimsy lace of your thong as he presses cool kisses behind your knees, over them, curling your thighs over his shoulders. He bends over to tug at the edge of your underwear with his teeth before he rips it off, dropping it on the floor so he can finally, finally begin to lick into your dripping cunt, his actions akin to a starved man given access to a feast. The drag of his tongue along your slit feels odd for a moment, too wide, too rough, as if it's not...

Oh.

You lean up onto your elbows, your breath suspended in your lungs, and he looks at you from beneath lowered lashes - what little you see of his eyes is a bright, violent red, glazed over at the taste of your arousal. The curve of his mouth widens and, sure enough, you feel his chilly tongue much further in than it should be, curving within you to stroke sensitive spots and you fall back with a startled cry as your orgasm washes upon you unexpectedly.

He laps at you hungrily, his shoulders trembling with want, with his frayed control. He slides his mouth to your fleshy thighs, sucking and rubbing his cheek into your warm skin as you take a moment to breathe. And then his mouth closes around your swollen clit, a sharp tooth scraping against it and you scream as jolt after jolt of pleasure assaults your body again, throwing your head back and digging your feet into the wide expanse of his back against the wild pleasure.

You try to squirm out of his hold, whimpering at how sensitive it feels, but his hold is iron around you, keeping you spread open for him to consume.

"You taste better than I imagined, darling," he croons, rising up to return to his kneeling position, letting you glimpse his mouth, glistening with your essence and his teeth, sharper than before and you're impressed at the lack of injuries where they just were. "But I think there are too many layers between us."

"I - can't argue with that." And you're quick to finish unbuttoning his silk shirt, mouthing at his collarbone as you work, licking up the slender slope of his neck before he catches your mouth in another kiss, which you barely break as you help him slip you out of your dress and unbutton his pants. "Oh...fuck."

He laughs at your response to his sizable cock, but you're not nearly as amused. You've heard what people say about them, but this? "This is not going to fit." It's pale and much larger than the average, normal cock.

"It will," he assures you with a devilish smile. "And you're going to enjoy it. Don’t worry – I’m going to fuck you real good, darling.” He rubs the length of his cock along your entrance for emphasis, coating it with your wetness as he nudges your legs so you wrap them around his waist. “You like it slow, don’t you? I can tell.”

“Then show me,” you gasp as his length rubs against your clit. He smiles at your demand, sweeping your hair away from your forehead.

“As you wish.” With that, he pushes into you, and your breath freezes at the feel of his wide head entering you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever felt in your heat and for a moment, you’re afraid it’ll break you. It feels colder than flesh, as it stretches your slick folds open. “Look at me, ___.”

His strain is shown in the bulging vein at his neck, the way the purple-grey of his eyes has once again given way to a savage red, and in the way he fights to keep from snarling at how vulnerable you look, with his cock about to spear you.

“Good girl – don’t look away, there, keep looking at me,” he murmurs, voice cracking as he pushes deeper with shallow thrusts. And it burns, you feel fuller the deeper he slides in, as if you’re going to come apart at the seams, and still – you want more. Until you can’t take any more without shattering. You whimper, moan and buck your hips, with Lucien drinking it all in with a smile that slowly edges into something feral. “Breathe.”

Over half of his thick length is in, your walls clamping down tightly with the force of your helplessness. Your hands dig into the seat. “Lu-Lucien, I don’t think I can take anymore.”

His lips press into the hollow of your throat, humming a soft, broken tune before the words come out, in the same indecipherable language from before a cool whisper against your skin. He keeps pushing and pushing, and your heart seizes in your throat before you realize the discomfort has eased. He slides the rest of the way in, sheathing himself in your silky heat, and you’re not entirely sure how he’s fit himself, what spell he used, and you can’t bring yourself to care as you push up into him. You meet his gaze with a slow grin, squeezing your walls around him as tightly as you can.

A deep groan rumbles in his chest, bordering on a purr, as his thumbs press into the crease of your hips, leaning forward until your legs are bent on either side of you, thighs nearly touching the cushion under you. He grinds into you until your skin meets his, transitioning into delicate thrusts, gauging your reaction, testing angles, noting what makes your eyes roll back, what makes you plead, what makes your hips buck up despite his tight hold on your legs.

“You’re so beautiful, darling. Even Lilith herself would kill to get a taste of you,” he groans, static energy crackling in the air, and your own blood sings as it rises to the surface to respond, in a song it's never sung before, one you didn't know it could sing. The lantern vibrates as the fire it holds surges to life, barely contained by the protective glass, trying to break free and curl around your fingertips. Lucien is fixated on what he sees in your eyes, stilling his thrusts as he stares down at you. You bite back a sound of frustration, something inside you curling inwards at how he studies it through the shield of your flesh.

“Lilith won’t have me.” Your hand winds around the back of his neck, pulling him down into a long kiss with clashing teeth and tongue. “And I need you to fuck me.”

He pulls out halfway in response, before snapping his hips into yours, repeating the motion until your hold on him falters, and there are tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. It’s a slow ascent, the force of his thrusts getting harder and harder until you’re sure he’s going to break you in half. His arms curl around you and pull you flush against his body, and the slow drag of his skin against your overstimulated bundle of nerves makes you come with a sob, and he fucks you through that too.

This might be why they say it takes some time to recover from intercourse with demons.

He shows no sign of stopping even as he sits back into his knees, with you clinging onto him for dear life as he thrusts up from a new angle, repeatedly impaling you on his cock. His eyes are wild, reverent, hinting at obsession. You won’t last too long, you know that. Already, things are getting blurry as another orgasm creeps upon you, and you know this one will end you.

“Lucien...” you croak, your head lolling back and your chest heaving. You meet his gaze and it’s as if something takes a hold of you, slithering between your ribs to give you the strength to push your hips down, circling them with his every thrust and reaching down to work your clit until everything is awash in bright light, making you wonder if the unholy one has come for you – then you feel how he throbs in you, painting your furiously fluttering walls, filling you up with his seed until it’s dripping from your cunt down his cock. “I...”

“We’re not done yet, darling,” he breathes into your hair, kissing away the tears that fall from your eyes. It's as if a mask has fallen away from his face, leaving behind the untamed parts that could burn if you aren't careful. “Focus on your home. I’m taking us there.”

You do so with your head tucked under his chin, while he grabs your clothes and undoes the privacy ward. And then, with a blink, you’re in your bedroom, with your messy bed and scattered knickknacks. The moon is bright outside your massive window, and Lucien is transfixed by the way you glow in the silvery light, your eyes fighting to stay open and your limbs shaking with strain. You fall onto your familiar, soft mattress with a sigh, drifting contentedly as Lucien presses soft kisses into the dimples in your back. The frenzied air between you seems to have settled for the moment, letting you breathe and appreciate the way he touches you in the silence, like you're art, a sculpture he's allowed to touch after an eternity of being denied.

“I don’t think I can take anymore,” you admit with a defeated sigh, rolling over onto your back and watching in amusement as his eyes light up at the sight of your bare breasts. He begins to nuzzle them instantly, lying down beside you and slipping a leg between yours, pulling you closer.

“That’s fine, I can wait until you recover,” Lucien says readily. He vanishes the cool, thick seed still drying on your skin with a wave of his hand and reaches for the thin blanket folded at the end of the bed. “Why don’t you take a nap?”

You pause, surprised that he’s not leaving, and by the way he clings to you. “I didn’t know demons like to cuddle.”

“We fuck. We cuddle. We’re not all that different.” He says it casually, but he’s got to be joking. He’s a fantastic lover, but you haven’t forgotten the fact that he’s an immortal being capable of erasing you with a snap of his fingers.

'Maybe it's because I'm not a mortal?'

Said immortal being is currently planting soft kisses in the valley of your breasts, making it hard to hold onto your previous notions of awe and terror. As your mind fades into the darkness, he begins to hum the same broken tune from before, and you wonder what magic he’s weaving now. His eyes, now a dim red as they watch you intensely, are the last thing you see before a numbing sleep steals you away.

#mlqc lucien #mlqc fanfic #smut #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #love and producer #mlqc xu mo

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clan-sayeed-fic · 5 years

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Let me earn your trust (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios) Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they're the property of Pixelberry Studios as well) Warnings: angst Rating: Mature Author's note: I'm not a native English speaker, I'm sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

This chapter is shorter than last ones, don't hate me haha

I was thinking that I'll be able to upload the 15th chapter today too. But since I was at work yesterday and I'm going there today too, right after posting this, I know for sure that it won't happen.

When I came back home yesterday, I was so exhausted like whoa... I love this job, but when I'm not working day after day in it, it takes a lot of my energy to adjust. And what amazes me the most is that even if I can barely stand on my feet from exhaustion, I cannot fall asleep like wth... and the fun fact is that around 1:30 a.m. I came up with the last line of this fic hahaha

Idk if anyone even reads those notes haha maybe, it's better if you don't. I'm going to answer your comments, if you leave some, in the evening😄 (12 noon here)

~ 1400 words

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Chapter 14

"I wouldn't worry about what happened this much, little girl," Adam's voice got Amy's mind out of her thoughts.

Without thinking, she took a glass of water that he held for her.

Amy retained only a few flashbacks from their ride to this place. The moment when she got into a limousine. A short talk with Adam, who tried his best to make her feel better. After that, she remembered getting out of the car and how she found herself in the town suburbs. In front of the impressive mansion.

The last thing she knew was the sound of her own voice refusing the offer of wine since she still felt the end of the hangover.

And now, there she was. Sitting on this enormous, white couch. Surrounded by ornaments worth millions.

Amy took a sip of water, letting the cold liquid flow down her throat.

Another single tear escaped her eye, traveling down her cheek before she wiped it away. She hadn't felt this alone and broken during those long four years. Amy made promises in her life that she would be tough, never cry, and move on. For them.

"I know what'll make you feel better," Adam's words drew her attention. "Come with me, I can show you something wonderful."

Amy forced a weak smile and stood up, following his steps.

They walked through the living room, in the opposite direction than the main entrance. Adam guided her to other doors, which were leading to the back yard of the mansion. The man opened the doors and gestured Amy to go outside. It was still daylight, so he had to stay in the shadows.

Amy walked through the doors, being blinded by the artificial light. Her eyes needed a few moments to adjust to this source of light before she could take the surroundings in. And the view she saw was truly breathtaking.

Amy didn't know how it was possible that, despite bad weather outside, the flora here was growing such beautifully. She couldn't decide if it was thanks to the heat lamp and equally heated ground or some talented and devoted gardeners.

Either way, the creation was a true masterpiece.

The grass was mown equally, surrounding the flowers. The flora was varied in so many ways. Starting from colors, kind, to height. There were plants that she saw many times in different gardens in New York so far. But also some of them were exotic, unknown for Amy.

In the center of the garden was growing an impressive, old weeping willow. Its stems were dancing slowly in the weak wind. Some of the leaves reaching the ground, some using the wind to fly as high as it was possible.

And that was the plant that especially got Amy's attention.

She stood speechless, looking at the tree, feeling warmth spreading in her chest. Feeling of safeness.

"I can see you're mesmerized by that Salix babylonica," Adam grinned behind her.

Amy snapped out of her thoughts and smiled, feeling better.

"I reminded myself that I have seen this kind of tree somewhere else before," she said mostly to herself.

"Ah, memories..." Adam spoke with his charismatic tone. "They are a fascinating thing, aren't they? I always say... if you desire to understand someone properly, you need to face his recollections at first."

Those were powerful words that hit straight to Amy's heart.

"There is some truth in that," Amy said, her mind uncontrollably traveling to Kamilah.

They turned around and walked inside the building.

Adam stopped near the bar, filling his glass with white wine. Once again, he looked at Amy with an unspoken offer.

"Oh, thank you, I'm good," her answer was still the same, but he didn't push her.

He walked Amy to the living room, and they both sat down on the couch at an appropriate distance from each other. For a moment, no one was stopping the silence that fell between them.

Adam was gathering his thoughts and pieces of information that he had learned about this human so far. He always needed to be prepared for how the conversation would go. The coincidence in his speech wasn't an option.

"Priya told me about the night when you were working as her waitress," Adam started, taking a little sip of his drink. "I feel utterly sorry for you getting to know all of this under such terrible circumstances."

Amy looked into his eyes, and she couldn't find a lie in them. Either he was telling the truth, or she was too blind at that moment to see his manipulative side.

"It happened," Amy swallowed, rethinking what she can do and tell around this man. "And I don't regret this."

"Even turning your best friend into the vampire?" Adam asked, without judgment in his voice.

Amy moved nervously on the couch, trying to hold back her emotions.

"If you're asking me what would I rather do: undo Lily's death or getting to know all of this. The answer is obvious," Amy's expression serious. "I would never sacrifice my friend for getting us into this."

"Loyalty, I respect that," Adam clasped in his hands, putting the glass aside. "I bet you have something that most humans are searching for in a friend."

Amy felt touched by those words.

"Why are you distinguishing humans and vampires so much?" Amy asked with curiosity, trying to not sound too brazenly.

Adam stopped smiling for a moment. She took him off gourd, and that was not an easy thing to accomplish. He quickly composed himself and spoke with his usual, confident, and eloquent manner.

"Because the human part is long gone as soon as you become the vampire, my friend," Adam was waiting for Amy's agreement. He was used to people agreeing with him, but it didn't happen this time. "But, from what I can notice, you're seeing things differently?"

Amy looked at her hands while thinking about her opinion on this subject. She wasn't such naive, even if she was feeling hurt about what happened between her and Kamilah. She still knew that she had to choose words carefully when it went to this man.

"I believe that everyone is worth redemption," she said, keeping gaze of his brown eyes.

Adam smiled, being sure that Amy had nothing else to say. And when he wanted to add his few words, she spoke again.

"And..." Amy's voice was full of hope. "I believe that if you once were a human... then losing humanity after turning depends on you."

Amy choose her words on purpose. Especially those which referred to being a human before turning. She knew that even people could behave without humanity or mercy. There's no need to be a vampire to act like a bloodlust creature. And she knew that those people freaked her out even more than this new world that she was still adjusting to living in.

"I can see now what Adrian and Kamilah saw in you," Adam's voice sounded absent.

At that moment, a chauffeur walked into the living room, clearing his throat.

"You called me, sir," he bowed before them.

"Indeed," Adam cheered up, shifting back to his usual behavior. "I want you to drive Ms. Campbell to her apartment."

The chauffeur smiled at Amy, so she returned the gesture feeling more relaxed when another person appeared in the room. She stood up and followed the young man to the doors after saying goodbye to Adam.

When she was near the entrance, Adam's voice stopped her.

"And, Amelia...." he said with a neutral tone. "I'm still thinking about our deal."

Amy froze for a moment. Her muscles tensed due to the sound of the name that she hadn't heard in years. Quickly, she regained control over her body and voice, thinking that it was a common mistake to consider her name as a shortcut from Amelia.

Keeping her eyes and facial expression under control, she turned around, smiling naturally.

"You know where to find me," she said with fake confidence in her voice.

After those words, Amy turned around and walked out of the house, heading to the limo.

A bad feeling curled under her skin, but sanity made her think that it was just a coincidence.

And, as Adam said, their deal was still on.

The only thing that Amy was not aware of was how valuable information Adam learned this day.

And how it would affect his next move.

Next chapter: 15

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tag list: @onyxgaytrash, @scarlet-letter-a0114, @caliseds,

@lightning-fury I know this chapter is more like a tease, but it’s the beginning of my big plan haha

#bloodbound mc #kamilah x mc #adam vega #angst #bloodbound #choices bloodbound #choices bb #choices stories you play #choices fanfiction #choices fic

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thegladelf · 7 years

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Killian Jones and The Girl Who Lived 8/8

AAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! We made it to the end!

First things first, thank you, thank you, thank you to @icecubelotr44 for being a super awesome beta. She has really pulled her weight, whether it was in pointing out typos or being a second brain to bounce ideas off of or even suggesting some ideas herself.

Secondly, I am so, so grateful for all the work that @prongsie and @jemmingart has put into illustrating this story. I’ve just been blown away by all their artwork. You guys, rock and I’m so glad we got matched up.

Thirdly, thanks to all the mods over at @captainswanbigbang for putting this on this year. You guys are superstars and i’m super grateful for all the work you put into making this Big Bang awesome!

And finally, I know some of y’all are wondering if I’ll be continuing on through the rest of the series. The answer is, “Yes!” CSBB got me started, but I’m nowhere near finished with this story. I will be taking a few weeks off from posting (for this universe, at least) so that I can get some chapters lined up, but you can expect to see the first chapter of “Killian Jones and The Heir of Sytherin” sometime next month. As this will not be a part of any story initiatives (i.e. CSBB), I would suggest following me on FF.net or Ao3 so you don’t miss a chapter.

A BIG thank you to everyone who has liked and commented so far. I hope to see you for the next installment.

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: G

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

Chapter Eight: An Underground Adventure

Killian woke on the first morning of exam week convinced that today would be the day. Between every class he ran up to the third floor corridor with the others and pressed his ear to the door as always, listening for snores or the scrape of claws against stone. But as the week wore on and nothing happened, the dread that had followed him since the encounter in the forest loosened its hold. He fell more and more on Mary Margaret's side.

With two of them against her and David cringing every time she said You-Know-Who's name, Emma dropped the subject even though it was obvious she still thought about it.

"No more studying," David said Friday afternoon as they left their last exam. He snatched Killian's exam papers away, but thought better of doing the same to Mary Margaret when she glared at him. "Oh don't look so glum, you three. We've got a whole week until we know how badly we've done… Now, we're going outside and we're putting away all the books until Monday."

Mary Margaret sighed and stuffed her things back into her satchel. "Fine. I suppose we've earned a break."

David got a sly look in his eye. As they approached the main doors, he grabbed Mary Margaret’s hand and darted outside with a whoop. She let out a shout of protest, clutching at her bag with one hand, but when David let go of her hand and kept running she chased after him with a smile on her face. A slightly manic smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“What do you think happens if she catches him?” Emma asked.

Killian shrugged. “Dunno.”

She nodded, rubbing at her scar. She snatched her hand away when she caught him looking and ran off after the others before he could ask her about it. As always, Killian followed.

By the time they caught up to David and Mary Margaret, the other two had slowed back to a walk, heading for the lake. They wandered around for a bit. Every so often, David would scoop up a promising rock and try skipping it across the surface. When the heat became overwhelming, the four of them flopped down under one of the willows. There was no breeze but the shade transformed the heat into something bearable, something sleepy.

They all stretched out and stared up at the long leaves. All of them except for Emma, whose fingers found her scar and began worrying at it.

"You alright, Swan?" Killian asked.

"I wish I knew what this means,” she growled, pressing hard at the little pink mark.

He snatched her hand away. "Careful, you'll rub it raw."

"Emma, relax," David said, reaching his hands beneath his head. "Stone’s safe as long as Dumbledore's around and no one is getting past that dog."

"Yeah," Killian added, "Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore like that. Even if he's a bit too trusting of Snape..." Killian shuddered. He still had goosebumps from their Potions exam. The dour professor spent the entire exam going from student to student, hovering over each of them, making them feel like they’d taken the very Forgetfulness potion they were supposed to be brewing.

“No, I suppose not.” Emma sat bolt upright. "Unless..."

Mary Margaret sighed. "Emma..."

But Emma was already off, robes trailing behind her as she took off for the forest.

With a glance at Mary Margaret, Killian got his feet, brushing grass from his robes as she pulled on David's sleeve. Grumbling, David rolled to his feet and the three of them hurried after Emma. Her destination was clear enough, her sights set on Hagrid's hut so intensely that Killian hoped she didn’t set it aflame with her eyes.

She glanced back at them as they caught up. “Don't you find it suspicious that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon and a stranger turns up who just happens to have a dragon egg in his pocket?"

Emma barged right up to Hagrid’s door and slammed her fist on it several times.

She received, “Round back!” in answer.

With that same single-minded fury, Emma led them to the back of the hut.

If he noticed the look on Emma’s face, Hagrid didn’t show it.

“Hullo," Hagrid said as they came into view. He tossed an empty pea pod to the growing pile behind him and reached for another. "Got time fer a drink?"

"No, not really," Emma said. "Hagrid, what did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," Hagrid replied, popping a pea open. "Wouldn't take off his cloak."

"And did you tell him anything about Hogwarts?"

Hagrid frowned, his hands stilling. "Mighta come up."

The sun felt a hundred times hotter as Killian’s mind finally caught up to Emma's. His heart sank into his stomach.

“Well…” Hagrid paused, eyes narrowed in concentration. "I told him I was gamekeeper here an' he asked about the creatures I look after… which I told him… an’ he told me he had a dragon egg on him and we could play fer it if I thought I could handle it.” Hagrid scoffed. “I told him after Fluffy a dragon would be easy...."

"And did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Emma leaned forward, her weight on the balls of her feet. She held her breath

"Well, it's not everyday yeh meet someone who knows about three-headed dogs,” Hagrid said, looking slightly offended. “I tol' him they're no trouble if you play them a bit o' music, calms 'em right down." Hagrid clapped a giant hand over his mouth. "I shouldn'ta told yet that!"

He had to yell because as soon as she heard the word music, Emma had sprinted off, racing up the hill like her life depended on it.

And it just might, Killian thought as he took off after her.

The Great Hall was cool, turning the sweat on Killian’s back to ice moments after they entered. They all paused, gulping in great lungfuls of air. Emma recovered first, shoving her hair back from her face, though bits of it still clung to her red cheeks.

"Mary Margaret," she said, whirling on the girl in question, "where's Dumbledore's office?"

Bewildered, Mary Margaret shook her head. “I have no idea.”

Emma frowned, but the frown didn’t last long. She pushed past David.

“Professor McGonagall.” Still panting, Emma ran up to the professor. "We need to see Professor Dumbledore. It's important."

"Goodness, Miss Swan, what's the matter?" Professor McGonagall eyed Emma over her wire-rimmed spectacles.

Emma’s eyes darted to the staircase. "Uh… it's kind of a secret."

Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared a little and Killian found himself very glad Emma was the one talking to her and not him.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," McGonagall said in a stony voice. "The Ministry of Magic sent him an urgent owl."

"He's gone?" Emma's voice sounded as steady as Killian felt. "Now?"

McGonagall looked down her long nose, waiting.

"Professor," Mary Margaret said, stepping up next to Emma, "It's about the Sorcerer's Stone..."

"And what do you know about that?" Professor's McGonagall's voice got all high-pitched as she spoke, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

"We just—we do," Emma said, "and I think Sn—I think someone is going to try to steal the Stone tonight. I really need to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together, studying Emma for a long time. Finally, she shook out the sleeves of her robes, adjusting the cuffs with an air of indifference.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she announced. "And as for the Stone, I don't know how you found out about that, but it is quite well protected, I assure you." She placed her hands on Emma's shoulders and steered her back toward the door. "Now, go. Enjoy the sunshine."

And just like that, they were outside, watching Professor McGonagall march back into the castle.

Emma’s hands shook. “It’s tonight. I know it.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Killian said, putting an arm around her as Mary Margaret came round the other side. It was a brief hug, because Killian caught sight of the last person he wanted to see right now. “Watch out, here comes Snape."

Snape narrowed his eyes as he passed them and if anyone would find standing out in the sunshine a crime, Killian was sure Snape would. But the teacher only nodded at them. They nodded back and he moved on.

David let out a sigh. “Reckon one of us should keep an eye on him?”

Emma nodded.

“Okay, Mary Margaret, you go hang outside the staff room,” David said, pointing.

“Why don’t you go hang outside the staff room?” Mary Margaret shot back.

“Because,” David drew the word out, “no one is going to believe me if I say I’m waiting around for Doc, but you’ve been talking the professors’ ears off about exams since day one.”

Mary Margaret looked thoughtful. “Well, I did have a question about number fourteen…”

David bit back a smile, but wisely said nothing.

“Good,” Emma said. “While she’s doing that, I think David, Killian, and me should keep an eye on the third floor corridor. You game?”

It seemed like a reasonable plan, so they said goodbye to Mary Margaret and tromped up to the third floor. As soon as they got to the door, Emma pressed her ear against it, eyes closed as she listened.

“He’s still there,” she whispered.

They all breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay, do you think maybe we should split up?” David asked. He gestured to one end of the corridor. “Post a guard at each end? And then one here by the door, just in case?”

“I bet one of us could fit behind that suit of armor,” Killian said.

Emma let out a muffled squeak, her eyes going wide.

“What?” Killian and David asked.

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

All three of them turned to see Professor McGonagall standing at the end of the corridor, her arms crossed over her chest. Her stare pinned their feet to the floor and the swishing of her robes as she stormed down the hall might have been the most ominous sound Killian had ever heard. “I suppose you think that you three can do a better job protecting that stone that an entire school’s worth of professors, do you?”

She stopped right beside Killian and he remembered the way she had held Regina up by her ear. He swallowed hard and tried to appear as small as possible. Her nails looked very, very sharp.

“But, Professor—”

“Don’t you ‘But, Professor’ me, young lady.” She leaned over the three of them. “I have had enough of this nonsense. If I hear you three— no, four have been anywhere near this door again it will be another fifty points from Gryffindor!”

David gasped.

“Yes, Nolan! From my very own house.” The glint in her eye sent them scurrying all the way back to the common room.

They flopped down on the couch miserably.

Emma rubbed at the scar again. “Well, at least we know Mary Margaret’s on Snape’s tail. If he moves she’ll tell us.”

The Fat Lady creaked and Mary Margaret came into the room, her normally pale cheeks flaming.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Everything was fine for a little while, but then Snape came out and wanted to know what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Doc. Snape went to get him. I didn’t know what else to do but ask my question and by the time Doc had finished…” She waved her hands helplessly. “I don’t know where Snape went.”

“That’s it.” Emma threw the pillow she had been holding onto the floor, it landed with a loud fwump. “The only thing left to do is sneak out of here tonight and get the Stone before Snape does."

"But you'll be expelled!" Mary Margaret protested. She said the word like it was the worst fate she could imagine.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Expelled is better than being dead! I'll use the invisibility cloak. No one will know I'm even out of bed."

Killian sat up. "Think that'll cover both of us?"

"Make it…" David cast a curious look at Mary Margaret. Her only response was to cross her arms and look sour. “Make it three of us.”

"I—I suppose. It fit two of us and a crate so…" Emma twisted the hem of her sweater. "David. Killian. I can't ask you to..."

“You’re not asking,” Killian replied. “Now, what do you say we all get some dinner?”

The wait after dinner was excruciating. Killian spent the entire time expecting Professor McGonagall to burst into the common room, point a spindly finger at each of them, and demand to know what in the world they thought they were doing. Emma twisted the hem of her sweater until it was absolutely ragged.

Mary Margaret paced nearby, stopping at intervals as David hissed, “Sit down and relax,” at her. She would listen for two minutes before she was on her feet again, pacing and fidgeting. It felt like time trickled by, people leaving the common room in groups of two and three. At last, Leroy Jordan, the last person in the common room, yawned the loudest yawn Killian ever heard and headed upstairs.

Emma jumped to her feet and dashed upstairs to retrieve her cloak.

"If anything happens to us," she said to Mary Margaret, "tell Dumbledore everything."

Killian and David got up, huddling close to Emma, but before she could throw the cloak around their shoulders, Mary Margaret blocked their way.

"Wait..." She shifted from one foot to the other. "You can't go."

"We've already been over this," Emma said. "I can't let Snape get that Stone."

"You'll be caught, Emma." Mary Margaret's voice wavered, she looked about to back off. She paused. Then she took a step forward, throwing her shoulders back and lifting her chin. "And that's the best case scenario. You can't go after a teacher on your own."

"She's not on her own," Killian and David said at the same time.

"You’re students!" Mary Margaret hissed. "We should go to bed, wait for Dumbledore to get back. He can stop Snape. He'll protect you, Emma."

"Rumplestiltskin will have the stone by tomorrow," Emma countered. “Mary Margaret, you know what’s at stake. We have to go!”

Mary Margaret pulled out her wand. "I'm not letting you."

But Killian was just as quick and he already had his hand on his wand. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Mary Margaret dropped her wand as her arms snapped to her sides and her legs locked up. She stared at Killian with wide eyes as she tipped, tilted, and fell face forward. Killian expected that. He sprang toward her, catching her before she hit the ground. David was with him and they lowered her gently the ground.

"Sorry, about that, Mary Margaret," Killian said, pushing his bangs out of his face.

"No, not there.” Emma sounded shaken. "Someone might trip over her."

Mary Margaret was little more than a living log--pure, dead weight as the three of them lifted her with effort and placed her on the couch. Once they had her settled, Emma pulled a blanket over her so that she wouldn’t get cold. Her eyes followed them the entire time, but nothing else moved.

"Will she be alright?" Emma asked.

"It's a Full Body Bind," Killian said, "it won't hurt her."

"Okay.” Emma leaned over their friend, tucking the blanket under her chin. “It'll be alright, Mary Margaret, I promise. We'll be back with the Stone in no time."

He felt sick with guilt as Emma threw the cloak over them . Liam would be so disappointed with him for using that spell on a friend. Of course, he knew Mary Margaret had been about to use it on them. They had discovered it together. She would understand later, he hoped. This was Emma’s life they were talking about it and if the adults weren’t going to do anything to stop You-Know-Who, then it was up to them.

All the way up to the third floor corridor it felt like ants were crawling over him, but he daren’t look around under the cloak to see if anyone was watching them. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the hallways in front of them.

At the staircase up to the third floor, they ran into a problem.

Peeves hovered over the floor, pudgy fingers picking at the carpet so that it would trip people.

Killian sucked in a breath as the ghost turned in their direction.

“Who’s there?” Peeves said in a nasal voice as they tried to squeeze past him. His wicked, black eyes glinted in the darkness. “I can’t see you, but you’re there.” They backed up quickly as Peeves waved a hand in front of him. “Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?”

Emma bit her lip.

The ghost rose up, drifting this way and that in front of them. “Should call Filch, I should, if something’s a-creeping around unseen.”

“Peeves,” David said in a hoarse whisper. He waved off the hand Killian tried to clap over his mouth. “The Bloody Baron has his reasons for being invisible.”

Peeves dropped suddenly, nearly hit the floor before he slowed, hands fumbling together. “Sorry, so sorry, your bloodiness—Mr. Baron—sir…My mistake, my mistake—I didn’t—of course I didn’t, you’re invisible—forgive old Peevsie he thought you were a student out of bed.”

Killian pressed a hand over his mouth, fighting back a giggle.

“Stay away from this place tonight, Peeves,” David continued, “I have business here.”

“Oh, yes sir, I will. Most certainly I will. I’ll stay out of your way, not a bother, not old Peeves.” And he hustled off, his little legs working even if his feet didn’t touch the ground.”

Emma breathed a sigh of relief.

Killian slung an arm around David’s neck. “That was brilliant, mate!”

“Yes, brilliant,” Emma hissed. “Now let’s go.”

They all took the stairs two at a time. If he had been with anyone else, Killian knew he would have tripped over one of them, but the three of them moved in a sort of sync. They were at the end of the corridor in a matter of seconds.

And they were already too late.

The door to Fluffy's cell stood open.

Emma let out a cry of despair and rushed forward, stopping just short of the door. Giant, snuffling snores echoed into the hallway.

"He's got it," Killian whispered. His brain whirled, trying to think of places they could hide Emma until Dumbledore came back tomorrow. He'd heard David's brother talking about secret passageways once with Leroy. Had they been talking about real passages? Or just discussing something that might be?

"We don't know that," Emma said, pulling the cloak off. She squared her shoulders. "Okay, if you two want to go back, I won't blame you."

"Don't be stupid," Killian said.

"We're coming," David finished.

They crept closer to the door, leaning over each other as they peered into the room. All three of the dog’s heads snapped up, noses pointed at them and sniffing wildly. At its feet sat a small harp.

Fluffy growled.

"Okay, then," Emma said and she pulled a wooden flute out of her pocket. “Time to put this to use I suppose.”

Killian would not in a million years call what she played music, but at the first low whistle of the flute, the dog's eyes drooped. The growls grew quieter and quieter until they turned to snores.

David gagged as they crept closer to the dog and he got a lungful of its breath.

"What does Hagrid feed this thing?" Killian whispered.

“Judging by what he fed Norbert? Probably fire whisky and rotten meat,” David replied, his face scrunched up in disgust.

“Hagrid would never feed one of his animals rotten meat.”

“Unless that what it liked.” David grimaced. “He’d probably keep the meat in his hut to make sure it spoiled properly.”

As they talked, the two boys stepped carefully over the dog's legs and bent for the ring of the trapdoor. The heavy door required a Herculean effort from them both, but they got it open.

Killian peered inside, trying to make out some detail besides utter darkness.

David swallowed. "Don't suppose you feel like going first, Killian."

Emma saved Killian from responding by waving at them. She pointed to herself and then to the darkness.

"Really?" he asked.

"Emma, you can't tell how deep this thing goes," David said, leaning over the lip again.

In response, she shoved the flute at Killian. The dog’s big ears twitched the minute the tune stopped and Killian put it to his mouth instead of arguing with her, blowing until he produced a steady whistle. Fluffy relaxed again.

Emma fearlessly sat on the lip of the hole. Without warning she pushed off the lip and dropped out of sight.

Killian almost stopped playing.

There was an odd sort of thump followed by, "It's okay! It's… something soft. You're fine to jump."

David clambered into the hole next, feet first, lowering himself until Killian could only see his fingertips. He let go. Still blowing on the flute--he wasn't doing much better than Emma--Killian edged up to the hole, feeling carefully with his toes. At last, he felt for the lip. He stopped playing when he found it and took a deep breath.

He jumped.

He heard the snaps of three enormous sets of teeth as he fell. Down, down, down, and--FLUMP. He was sprawled all over something soft. He felt around him, feeling the slightly waxy skin of a plant. Something curled around his ankles.

Heart in his throat, he whipped out his wand and cried "Lumos!"

"Killian! What the hell?" Emma threw her hand up to shield her eyes.

"Look!" he jabbed a finger at her and David.

The same long, twisting creepers grabbing at Killian's ankles had wrapped all the way around Emma and David's legs. He yanked hard one last time and snapped the last vine in two, but Emma and David weren't as lucky. The more they struggled, the higher the vines wrapped around them. Killian wracked his brain. He knew he'd heard of such a plant. It was in his herbology book—and there had been a question about it on—

"It's Devil's Snare," he shouted.

"Thanks for that completely helpful information," David shouted, struggling to free his arms.

"Shut up," Killian shot back. "I'm trying to remember how to kill it… creeping vines, likes dark and damp..."

"Then light a fire!" Emma gasped. The vines were all the way up to her chest.

"I don't have any wood!"

"KILLIAN, YOU NINNY, YOU'RE A WIZARD!" David bellowed.

"Oh!" With a flick of his wand, Killian muttered the same spell that he used to set Snape's robes on fire. The vines started smoldering and wriggling, unraveling as they loosed Emma and David. He held out his free hand, helping each of them away from the roots.

"Good thing you pay attention in herbology," Emma said, drawing several shaky breaths.

"Good thing some of us keep cool head under pressure." David shook his head. "Honestly. 'I don't have any wood'."

Killian tucked his wand back into his robes with flaming cheeks.

Emma tilted her head toward a looming arch. "This way, I think."

They followed her down a sloping passageway, the light from Emma's wand glistening on the water trickling down the walls. Killian shivered.

"Shh, hear that?" David asked.

They all froze. A soft rustling, clinking sound broke the silence up ahead.

They all exchanged quick glances and hurried on, coming to a brightly lit chamber. Killian craned his neck all the way back before he found the ceiling high above them. A flash of color darted across his vision. Bringing his gaze a little closer to him he found bright, jeweled birds fluttering about twenty feet off the ground.

"Is it just me, or does that looks too easy?" Emma asked, pointing to the door on the opposite side the room. There was nothing else there save for the birds fluttering high above them.

"One way to find out," David said.

Emma slid her wand back into its pocket. "Here’s the plan: I'll run and we'll see what happens."

"I don't think--"

But she was already racing across the room, her robes held over her head, so Killian let the sentence die.

The jeweled birds stayed far above them and Emma reached the other side unscathed. She hauled on the door, but it held fast. Killian and David came to help her, but the door remained firmly shut.

“Hold on,” Killian said, pulling out his wand. “Alohomora!”

Nothing happened.

"There's got to be a way in," Killian said, turning back to the room. He scratched behind his ear as he thought. "Maybe it has to do with the birds. They can't just be for decoration."

Emma's eyes lit up. "Of course." She grabbed his arm, pointing. "Look, they're keys. Winged keys!" She bit her lip, scanning the room. "And there! Broomsticks."

Killian nodded. "We've got to catch the right one."

"But there are hundreds of them!" David said.

Killian ran his fingers over the lock. "We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one. Silver like the handle."

Emma nodded vigorously. Golden hair streaming in the bright light, she ran for one of the brooms.

The boys were right behind her. Killian was much better at flying that he had been at the beginning of the year, but he was unprepared for the task of flying chasing the bird-like keys. He almost fell off his broom several times. David fared better and Emma was a blur, flitting after this key and then the next at boggling speeds. Killian couldn’t keep up. The keys darted about so quickly it was hard to tell what kind of key they were.

"There! That blue one!" Emma pointed to a key, big and silver with a bent wing, like it had already been caught and stuffed in a lock.

The three of them wasted several minutes trying to capture the key.

“Hold on,” Emma said, pulling her broom up short and hovering. “We need to trap it. Killian you go low, keep it from flying down. David you go high and come at it from above. I’ll try to catch it.”

“Right,” Killian and David said.

They circled around until they were in position.

“Ready?” Emma called. “Now!”

Focusing on the key with all his might, Killian rocketed upward. David came at him from the opposite direction. Emma zipped between them, crowding the key toward the wall. With a vicious crunch she trapped it.

“YEAH!” Killian and David whooped. David did a loop with his broom, fist raised high over his head.

They landed by the door and Emma shoved the key into the lock.

Killian felt a little sorry for the poor thing, it looked very battered now that it had been caught twice.

The hinges squealed as they hauled the door open and they rushed into the next room.

Torches sprang to life as they entered, revealing a giant chessboard, complete with pieces twice as tall as Killian. He swallowed, looking up at the grim-faced black king. On the other side, just beyond the lined up white pieces, was the door. The chessboard took up nearly the whole room, there wasn’t even any room at the sides for them to sneak past.

Emma took a step forward and the black queen’s head swiveled around to look at each of them.

Emma froze, her mouth making a little ‘o’.

"What now?" Killian asked, eyeing the mace in the knight’s hand warily. He’d played enough games of wizard’s chess to know how lethal those were.

"We play our way across, obviously," David said.

"How?"

"We listen to David," Emma said. "No offense, Killian, but he's been playing loads longer than either of us."

Killian held up his hands. "None taken."

David started giving orders right away. He put Emma in the place of a bishop and Killian in the place of a castle, before taking the place of a knight. Killian resisted the urge to bite his nails as a white pawn moved forward with a grating sound.

David shouted commands to the black pieces and they obeyed silently.

Their first casualty came before long. The white queen smashed the knight that wasn’t David and dragged him off the board. Even though they knew what to expect, it took a minute to collect themselves and move on with play. The knight was the first, but not the last. With every black piece that joined the pile on the other side of the board, Killian’s knees trembled a little more violently, but he held his place.

David darted around fearlessly, more than making up for the pieces they lost. Killian and Emma were almost to the other side of the board when the white queen rotated in his direction.

"David!" Emma shouted.

"NO! Stay there!" He held up a hand, head high as he faced the queen and her wicked stone sword. "Emma, as soon as she takes me, you can checkmate the king. Do you see?"

Emma nodded, tears streaking down her cheek. "But..."

"Do you want to stop Snape?"

"David," Killian tried, but David cut him off with a wave of the hand.

"This is chess. You have sacrifice pieces to win." His eyes looked impossibly blue as he met each of their eyes in turn. He took a deep breath. "I can do this. Don't hang around once you're through, Snape's already too far ahead."

Killian covered his eyes as David stepped right into the white queen's path, but that didn't shield his ears from the sickening crunch. He opened his eyes in time to see the queen drag David's limp form to the side.

Emma took three shaky steps to the left and the white king threw his crown at her feet.

Killian didn’t waste any time, he bolted for the door, grabbing Emma’s arm as he went. “He’ll be alright,” he told her, hoping it sounded more convincing than it felt. He knew the worst was still ahead of them.

"That was McGonagall's," he said as they entered the next passageway. "And the Devil's Snare was clearly Professor Anton's."

"And Flitwick probably charmed the keys." Emma paused at the next door, swallowing as she laid her hand on the handle. "Which leaves Heller, Dumbledore, and Snape's spell."

He nodded.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Emma pushed the door open. Noxious air flooded out of the room beyond, causing them both to pull their robes up over their noses. Emma swiped at her eyes with her sleeve.

"Glad we don't have to deal with that," she choked out, skirting past the troll laid flat out on the floor.

Killian tried not to gag. "Yeah."

The next room couldn’t have been more different. It was empty save for a single table standing in the middle. On the table sat seven bottles, no two the same shape.

"Snape's?" Emma guessed.

"Snape's."

Cautiously, they stepped into the room, grateful for the clean, dank air. There was a pop and a hiss as purple fire sprang up behind them.

No going back. No going forward either, Killian realized as a wall of black fire came to life on the other side of the room, blocking them from the only other door.

With a shrug, Emma feigned nonchalance, but her eyes were wide as saucers as she approached the table. A small scroll lay in front of the bottles. She picked it up with two fingers, holding it far away from her as she unrolled it gingerly. When it didn’t explode in her face, she started reading. Her eyes got even wider the further she got down the page.

"What do you make of this?" she asked, shoving the paper at Killian.

Killian carefully unrolled the parchment.

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side;

Second, different are those who stand on either end,

But if you would more onward, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins one you taste them, though different at first sight.

"Oh, this is brilliant," he said.

"What is brilliant?"

Killian waved the scroll in the air. "It's a logic puzzle. Most wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be suck here for ages!"

"I don't know why you're so happy about that." Emma planted her hands on her hips. "That means we'll be stuck here for ages, too."

"No, we won't." Killian grinned. "My—I happen to know a thing or two about riddles."

His mum had been obsessed with riddles. When he was little she used to babble them non-stop. As he grew, he learned that nothing calmed her down the way a riddle or word puzzle did. He spent years searching out new riddles every time he went to school, because they put a smile on his mother’s face. She loved puzzling them out with him. He'd gotten very good at them.

"Well? What's the answer then?"

"Give me a minute."

He worked through each of the clues, mentally arranging the bottles in his mind. The one on the far left couldn't be the nettle wine, but it could be poison. The biggest bottle and the littlest bottle weren't poison. Neither of the bottles at the end could get them past the black flames.

Finally, he plucked up the smallest bottle. "This will get us to the next room."

Emma frowned as she took it and looked inside. She pursed her lips together, brows drawn tight.

"Killian, which bottle will get us back the way we came?"

Killian pointed to the bottle all the way on the right.

"There's barely any of this potion left," she said, holding up the bottle in her hand. "Not enough for both of us. You should take that bottle and go back for Dave."

"But—"

"Rumplestiltskin is after me," Emma said. "I got lucky once, maybe I'll get lucky again."

He bit down on his lip to keep it from trembling. "You're an amazing witch, you know."

"Not as good as you," she said with a sad smile.

"Me?" Killian resisted the urge to itch behind his ear and couldn't manage to meet Emma's eyes. "I'm clever and I've read a lot, but I think friendship and bravery are a bit more important."

"You're a good friend, too, Killian." Her voice warbled. Suddenly, she launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Only Liam and his mother had ever hugged him before and the exuberance of her affection took him aback. It was nice, he decided. He hugged her back quickly.

"Quick, Snape might already be in there." He held out a hand, arresting her as she lifted her bottle to her lips. "Let me try first."

"You’re sure you're right?" She searched his face, her eyes shimmering with more emotions that he could name.

"Positive."

He downed the whole potion in his bottle. His fingers and toes tingled, a wave of cold sweeping straight to his core and meeting the cold lump in his gut. It was like drinking a hundred glasses of ice water at once. With a deep breath, he ran straight through the purple flames. He paused at the door, waving to Emma that he was alright. She nodded and lifted the small bottle to her lips as he reentered the chess room.

David sat near the door, propped up against one of the broken knights, cradling his arm to his chest. He had a large, purpling bruise on his forehead. He struggled to get up when he saw Killian.

"Emma? Is she—"

"She's alright. Or she was when I left her,” Killian said, kneeling next to him. “Only one of us could move on, so she sent me back for you. You're a mess, mate."

"I feel a mess."

"Here, let’s get you up." He gingerly took David's god arm, hauling it over his shoulder.

David groaned.

"Sorry!"

"How are we going to get out of here?" David asked. "I can barely walk."

"Can you fly with a bum arm?"

David grinned at him, or at least, that's what Killian thought it was supposed to be as it looked a bit more like a grimace with his face all messed up.

"Only need one to hold on."

"Right, let's get you on a broom then."

Killian couldn’t help checking over his shoulder every few minutes as he helped David hobble back across the chessboard. He expected the queen or a knight to reanimate and bar their way, but all the pieces held exactly as they were when he fled the room with Emma. At last, they reentered the room of glittering keys.

Killian left David leaning against the wall as he ran to retrieve the two brooms. Then came the tricky part. With his bad ankle it took several minutes for David to balance enough to mount the broom.

Though he wanted to hurry, he and David took a slower pace the rest of the way back. Killian was the only one with a hand free for a wand and he knew they'd do Emma no good if they plastered themselves against a wall. When they reached the room with the Devil's Snare, Killian groaned.

"We forgot about Fluffy."

"I've got an idea. Whatever you do, Killian, don't stop flying." And then he broke out into one of the songs for his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. Belting it at the top of his lungs, he headed straight for the still open trapdoor.

Killian followed right behind. He zipped out the trapdoor right behind David, expecting Fluffy's huge jaws to snap on him the minute he popped out. But the big dog snored in rhythm with David's bellowing. Only once they were through the still-open door did David stop singing. Killian managed to get the door closed just as the dog started growling.

They both let out long sighs.

"I need to get an owl out to Professor Dumbledore," Killian said, "will you be—"

"I have already sent an owl to Professor Dumbledore," Professor McGonagall announced. She stepped out of the shadows around a suit of armor, her face pinched in anger. "What in the world did you two think you were doing? Where is Miss Swan?"

Her skin was so pale, she looking like one of the ghosts.

"Uh..." David said.

"Emma's down there," Killian said.

Professor McGonagall went even whiter.

"David got hurt beating your chess spell and Emma sent me back with him while she went into the next room..."

"You… beat… you solved..." Professor McGonagall sputtered.

"And now she needs us to get up to the owlery and send a message to Dumbledore, because Snape was ahead of us the entire time."

She pulled herself up to her full height, looking down her nose at them. "I just spoke with Professor Snape not ten minutes ago," she said, "I can assure you that he's not down there."

"He's not?" Killian blinked. If not Snape, then who? "Well, someone is down there with her. Someone bent that key and knocked out that troll and drank the potion!"

"I believe you," Professor McGonagall said after a moment of consideration. "Well, Mr. Jones, I think you had better help Mr. Nolan to the hospital wing. I will send a message to Professor Dumbledore." Her robes swished as she turned, muttering to herself.

David chose to remain on his broom for the trip to the infirmary, hovering just above the ground as Killian steered. Madam Pomfrey answered the door in her nightgown, a lacey bonnet covering her hair. When she saw David all battered and bruised, she tutted at them and ushered them inside.

Killian suppressed a shudder. He couldn't imagine why she slept in the little room off the entrance. The hospital wing was clean, certainly, almost too clean and so devoid of color, with the pale walls and white sheets and the beds lined up in two neat rows.

David climbed onto the nearest one with a groan.

"You can sit over there, Mr. Jones," Madam Pomfrey said, pointing to a chair by the door. Meekly, Killian obeyed, curling into the chair and trying to keep very still. This room felt too much like a hospital for his liking and he twice caught himself bouncing his leg erratically.

David yelped as Madam Pomfrey poked at his arm and declared it broken. With potions and her wand, she set to repairing the damage inflicted by the white queen.

"There, I think that should about do, Mr Nolan, how do you—"

Something hit the infirmary doors with great thundering booms, over and over again.

"Oh, what now?" Pomfrey muttered.

The door swung open before she could get to it and Professor Dumbledore rushed in, Emma hanging limp and pale in his arms. Killian jumped to his feet.

"Emma?"

No one paid him any mind. Madam Pomfrey ceased tending to David and rushed over to help Dumbledore, cradling Emma’s head as they placed her on a bed.

"What happened, sir?" she asked.

In a low voice, Dumbledore explained everything. Professor Heller, it seemed, had been possessed by You-Know-Who. Emma had got the Stone and held him off, but the effort left her drained and unconscious. The remains of Professor Heller sounded especially gruesome to Killian’s ears. As Dumbledore whispered hurriedly, he seemed far removed from the cool, eccentric man of the start of the year banquet.

Madam Pomfrey fussed over Emma the entire time, taking her pulse and looking in her eyes. At last, she took a step back. "Well, I think she'll be alright, professor. Just needs a bit of rest."

Killian and David both breathed sighs of relief.

A mistake on their part. It got them kicked out of the infirmary with instructions not to come back until the sun had risen.

The Fat Lady was surprised to see them, but she let them when they mumbled the password and that was all that mattered.

“I’m glad classes are over,” David said with a yawn. “I’m going to sleep until noon. Gods, that’ll earn me an earful from Mary Margaret, she probably wants to…”

Killian froze.

“What?”

"David," he said, turning toward the couch. "We almost forgot about Mary Margaret."

David's eyes grew three sizes, he looked ready to bolt up the stairs.

Killian didn't hesitate, crossing to the couch and taking out his wand. The counter spell was quick and Mary Margaret sat up carefully.

"Sorry,” Killian said, “we didn't mean to forget."

"I hope you have a better apology than that," she said, her voice all high and squeaky. Her eyes filled with tears as she glowered at him. "Do you know what I've been doing? I've been lying there waiting for someone to come tell me my best friends were dead...” She inhaled sharply. “Wait, where's Emma?"

David crept over, like a dog expecting to be hit. “Madam Pomfrey is fixing her up.”

“Fixing her up?” Mary Margaret exclaimed. “What happened?

David and Killian exchanged a glance. And then launched into what happened, reliving each moment as they told it. Mary Margaret sat slack-jawed as they explained how they got past Fluffy and then the Devil’s Snare. She listened intently to their description of the keys and gripped David’s hand when he spoke of the chess game. And then they came to the logic puzzle, which she insisted on solving herself. At last, Killian told her the story Dumbledore told Madam Pomfrey.

“And that’s all we know,” he said with a shrug. “Emma didn’t have a scratch on her, but supposedly Heller’s whole face was melted off.”

"But Madam Pomfrey says she'll be alright, right?" Mary Margaret twisted her fingers in her lap.

Killian nodded. "She said we could come round in the morning."

"After we've got some sleep." David yawned. "I'm going up to bed. G'night Mary Margaret."

She gaped as he trudged upstairs. Killian shrugged. That was Dave.

Killian stayed downstairs to answer a few more of her questions, but she noticed that he was tired, finally, and let him follow David upstairs. On the way up, he thought he would stay up the rest of the night worrying about Emma, but instead, he fell into bed like something dead. He didn't even register David's snores before he fell asleep.

For the next three days, he, Mary Margaret, and David kept a vigil in the infirmary, leaving only for meals and when Madam Pomfrey kicked them out at night. They watched over her in shifts. Madam Pomfrey was quite strict when it came to how many visitors could be with Emma at any one time and their classmates insisted on stopping by with gifts and questions. Lots of questions. They didn’t get many answers though, because Madam Pomfrey always ushered them off as soon as soon as their gift was placed on the little bedside table. All except for Happy and Leroy. They had procured a pick axe and tried to sneak it in as a gift and Madam Pomfrey nearly boxed both their ears with it.

On the third day, Emma had a visitor even Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t argue with. Dumbledore.

"You are starting to look a bit pale, Mr. Jones,” the old professor said, placing his hand on Killian’s shoulder. "My apologies, I did not mean to startle you." He nodded at the sun streaming in through the windows. "I believe they are serving lunch at the moment. And then I think you should go get some sun. It will do Miss Swan little good to have you end up in the bed next to her."

"I'm—"

"Go, I'll sit with her for a little while, I think." The professor shooed him away from the bedside, folding his hands over his long, white beard as he occupied the chair next to Emma’s bed.

"What are you doing down here?" Mary Margaret asked as he sat next to her. Their success appeared to have wiped the memory of their betrayal from her mind, for she hadn't berated them once for hexing her and going after the Stone. "Is everything okay? I thought we’d agreed that I’d come relieve you after lunch." She dug around in her satchel, looking for one of her color-coded schedules. In true Mary Margaret fashion, she had drawn up a time sheet with each of the shifts they pulled. She said it was so they wouldn’t squabble over who got to sit with Emma, but Killian knew it was because she felt better when things were in neat little boxes.

"Professor Dumbledore told me he'd like to sit with her a while." Killian filled his plate. Perhaps if he ate a good lunch, the professor wouldn't force him to go outside and he could sit with Mary Margaret while she sat with Emma.

They talked quietly as they ate, grumbling about the Slytherins pulling ahead in the House Cup. Regina was beyond smug over at the table with her little clique.

"Can't believe my brother took up with those rotters," David mumbled around a mouthful of peanut butter sandwich.

"At least you won't have to deal with Regina," Mary Margaret muttered. "Gran might absolutely refuse to have Cora round the house, but that rule doesn’t apply to Regina. She’s sure to be round a least once this summer."

"Excuse me."

The three children turned to find Professor McGonagall standing behind them. "Professor Dumbledore wished me to inform you that Miss Swan is awake."

Servingware clattered against their plates as they abandoned their lunches and rushed out of the Great Hall. As they left, the whispers of students grew to a hushed roar. Everyone had heard of their adventure beneath the school, of course, because Leroy and Happy had pinned David down until he told the whole story. Killian added details out of sympathy—and because he wasn’t sure if the two older boys would turn on him next.

For once, he wasn’t paying any attention to the eyes on him.

Madam Pomfrey stopped them at the door to the infirmary.

“But you just let Professor Dumbledore in!” Killian said. “He got to talk to her.”

“Professor Dumbledore is the headmaster,” she replied calmly.

“Please,” Mary Margaret said, “just five minutes. We just want to know she’s okay.”

Madam Pomfrey sighed. “Fine. Five minutes.”

She stepped back as they burst through the door.

“Emma!” Killian called racing down the row.

She called out their names as they crowded around her, reaching for each of them with a bright grin on her face.

“I was so worried,” Mary Margaret exclaimed. She perched on the side of Emma’s bed, capturing one of her hands.

“What happened?” David asked, plopping down in the chair.

“Are you alright?” Killian asked.

“Goodness. Are you going to stop talking long enough for me to answer all of you?”

They laughed.

Emma told them all about the last room. Finding the Mirror, being surprised by Heller, figuring out how to find the Stone, fighting the teacher off, Rumplestiltskin. Even though he knew the ending of the story, Killian’s heart was in his throat the entire time.

In turn, Killian and David supplied their side of the story.

Emma got a stitch laughing when they got to the part about David singing. “Oh, I wish I could have seen that.” She sat back, reaching for the box of Bertie Bott’s beans that David was munching on. “How did things go while I was out?”

“Terribly,” David grumbled. “Slytherin has the House Cup.”

Emma looked like she might be angry for a minute, but then she shrugged. “But we have the Stone and Rumplestiltskin doesn’t.”

It was good attitude to take. After everything they’d been through the last few days, the House Cup seemed rather trivial to Killian.

Of course, that didn't make walking into the Great Hall the next evening any easier. Madam Pomfrey insisted that Emma stay in the infirmary one last night and wouldn’t let them see her at all the next day, so he, Mary Margaret, and David headed down without her—though they saved her a seat. She slid in next to Killian a few minutes late, head held high despite Oliver Wood's dour expression.

She glared in Regina's direction and muttered, "Next year."

"Next year we'll win for sure," David said. "And I bet we'll take the Quidditch Cup too."

Emma grinned.

They all fell silent as Professor Dumbledore stood. "I believe there is a House Cup that needs awarding. The points stand as thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two."

"Can't believe we let Hufflepuff—" David cut off quickly.

Mary Margaret had elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

Cheers erupted from the Slytherin table, as loud as if they were hearing the news for the first time. Everyone else glared at them. Three straight days of gloating had left Slytherin with few friends outside of their own house.

Dumbledore raised a hand. "Yes, well done, Slytherin. However, there are recent events to take into account."

The Slytherins stopped clapping, their smiles stayed, but they were as faded as a well-washed stain.

Silence fell over the hall.

"Let me see." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "To Mr. David Nolan, for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award fifty points."

David's jaw dropped open. Half-hearted cheers pattered down the length of the table. A nice gesture from the professor, but all it did was put them ahead of Hufflepuff.

"Yes, yes." Dumbledore gestured for silence. "Second, to Mr. Killian Jones, for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award fifty points."

Now some of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff joined the Gryffindor table, several hoots ringing out as students realized exactly what Dumbledore was doing. Killian felt his cheeks go red, but he didn't duck away like he normally would.

"He's right," Emma whispered. "You were both brilliant."

"Third, to Miss Emma Swan, for pure nerve and outstanding courage," Dumbledore paused, letting the silence sit for a long moment, "I award sixty points."

Everyone but Slytherin was cheering and hollering at this point. Hands pounded on their backs from all sides.

Killian had to shout above the crowd to be heard. "That ties us with Slytherin!"

Emma held her breath, turning to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore smiled and the room fell silent again. "There are many kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends."

Emma let out a squeak, grabbing Killian's arm.

"I therefore award ten points to Miss Mary Margaret Blanchard. Now, I believe a change in decoration is in order.”

A roar burst from the crowd as he held his wand aloft. The flags hanging from the ceiling changed, red bleeding down over green until every single one held the gold lion on a scarlet field.

From his place a few seats down, Leroy Jordan jumped up onto the bench, yelling at the top of his lungs. “We won! Yeah! WE WOOOOOOON!”

David leaned over to say something to Mary Margaret. Killian's eyes followed as she turned. He nudged Emma, pointing out a very put out Regina.

Emma laughed.

She leaned in and said, "Look up there if you want to see something even better." She pointed to the head table.

Snape was shaking hands with Professor McGonagall, a brittle smile on his face. He scanned the crowd, meeting Killian's eyes for a brief second before settling behind him. On Emma. Killian sighed. He supposed there were worse things than teachers that couldn’t let go of a grudge.

# # #

The next few days passed in a blur and before Killian knew it, they were all packed up and boarding the Hogwarts Express for the trip home. He was excited—Liam had finally found them a little flat—but he was also sad to leave.

But he’d be coming back next year, he reminded himself as he followed his friends into one of the compartments.

As they slid into the benches, Emma pulled out a little bound book and started flipping through it.

"What's that?" Killian asked as he sat on the bench across from Emma.

She held it up so they could see the photo on the cover. "Hagrid gave it to me. He felt really bad about almost getting me killed."

"It's not his fault," Mary Margaret insisted.

"It kind of is," David said.

"I'm with Mary Margaret," Emma said, passing her the book. "It's all pictures from my parents’ friends. Of them."

Killian took the book when Mary Margaret offered it, leaning over so that David could see, too. The first picture was of a couple, a man with unruly blonde hair and a dark-haired woman who held a bald baby. The resemblance was clear. Even in the black and white photo, Killian could see that Baby Emma's eyes were the exact same shade as her mother’s. As he watched, the woman kissed the baby on the cheek and grinned at the camera again.

"I'm sorry, Emma," he said.

"For what?"

"That you have to go back home," he said. He didn’t know why, but according to Emma, she had to go back to the Dursley’s. His gut coiled at the thought of her being forced into that little closet beneath the stairs again. He was going to have his own room—his own room—and his best friend would be sleeping on a mattress in a broom closet

David nodded somberly. "My mum even offered to have you stay the summer with us, but Dumbledore told her no, too."

She shrugged. "It's not your faults. Besides..." Emma turned, catching the last glimpse of Hogwarts as the train rounded the bend. "It's not home. Not really."

"We'll write you letters every day," Mary Margaret said and the others nodded.

"And Mum says you’re welcome to visit—all of you are." He laughed. “The more the merrier, that’s the motto at the Nolan house.”

"And Liam said our flat has a telephone," Killian said, "so I can call you!"

Emma's grin was blinding. She reached into her bag for a rumpled scrap of parchment and a pencil. She scrawled her phone number quickly and shoved it in Killian’s hand.

“What’s a telephone?” Mary Margaret asked, leaning over to read the number over Killian’s shoulder. She wrinkled her nose, confused.

“I’ve heard of those,” David said, "Dad says Muggles use them to communicate."

Mary Margaret blinked. "They don't use owls?"

Emma giggled. “No, most Muggles would think using an owl was ridiculous.”

“They used pigeons once. At least that’s what Dad says.”

“Well, we don’t use birds anymore.”

“Okay,” Mary Margaret said, “but what’s a telephone?”

“Well, it’s kind…it’s, um, usually made of plastic and it has these buttons with numbers on them. Like this.” She leaned over and started to draw on the remaining scrap of parchment.

“Hold on.” Mary Margaret bent over her bag, retrieving an old notebook and her quill. “I want to take notes.”

Emma laughed so hard it was a long time before she got back to explaining the workings of Muggle communication. And Mary Margaret did take notes as Emma talked about telephones and the post and the internet until she had no more answers to give.

King's Cross station came far too soon for Killian's liking. Soon, they were all packing up their snacks and filing into the hallway. After so many months as Hogwarts, the pressing crowd didn't feel quite so disorienting as it had on the trip out.

“There they are,” David said, spotting his parents almost immediately. He waved wildly before breaking off from the group. He and his brothers converged on them, even James ditched his Slytherin buddies to go say hello to his parents.

Mary Margaret was the next to go. “There’s Gran,” she said as she trotted off.

The crowd came between them before Killian caught a glimpse of the old woman in question.

Emma sighed. "I'd better get my things."

"I'll come with you," Killian said.

"And what's a scrawny thing like you going to do with a full trunk?" a familiar voice asked.

"Liam!" Killian whirled and there, hands propped on his hips and shaggy curls falling into his face, stood his brother. He sprinted through the crowd, seizing Liam’s hand. "David and Mary Margaret have already run off. Well, David's over there." He waved in the Nolans’ general direction. "And Mary Margaret is over that way somewhere, but you'll never find her in the crowd. But you have to meet Emma. I don’t think her family is here yet and…"

“Whoa, slow down, little brother.” Liam held up his free hand, laughing. “Let’s take it one step at a time.”

Emma watched them approach, her fingers clutching the strap of her bag. She smiled shyly.

"Emma. Emma this is my brother. Liam." He stopped in front of her, gesturing between the two of them.

She bit her lip, like she was trying not to laugh. "Pleased to meet you."

Liam extended a hand. "And you. Thanks for putting up with my brother this year."

"More like he had to put up with me," she said with a snort.

"I did hear you got into a spot of trouble."

Killian waited for him to say more, to mention the Dark One or her parents, but Liam didn't gawk or ask about her scar. He acted like it was perfectly natural that Killian made friends with The Girl Who Lived.

"Now, I believe we were retrieving your trunks?"

They led him to the back of the train and—after a few minutes of searching—pointed out the compartment. Hedwig hooted softly at them. Mary Margaret's trunk was gone, but David's still sat beneath Emma's. Liam spotted Killian’s trunk right away and as soon as they pointed out which one was Emma’s, he tapped them both with his wand. The slid out easily after that.

"I could have done that,” Killian said as he took hold of his handle.

"Not outside of school, you couldn't, little brother."

Killian blushed, eyes sliding to Emma. "Younger brother."

Liam rolled his eyes. "Let's go, I'm sure Emma's family is waiting."

She grimaced at the mention of the Dursleys, but didn't protest as they wove through the crowd. Right before they left the platform, they traded Liam’s levitation charm for a pair of trolleys.

Killian spotted the Dursleys almost immediately. They were huddled outside the station, eyeing everyone that passed by as though they expected them to be a witch or wizard. Killian looked at Emma, waiting for confirmation that this unpleasant looking family was indeed hers. He had hoped… Well, he had hoped that they wouldn't show up for her and she would have to go home with him and Liam, after all. Which was perhaps an awful thing to think, except he knew she would much prefer anywhere to the Dursleys' house.

Emma looked just as disappointed as her aunt and uncle when she caught sight of them.

"I'd better go, before Uncle Vernon gets too testy."

The fat man already looked testy, his great, bushy mustache quivering as he said something to his pinch-faced wife.

Liam pressed his lips together. “My brother told you I got us a telephone, yeah?”

Emma nodded.

Liam pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “I know what Dumbledore said, Emma, but if they give you any trouble, you call me. Alright?”

With a quick glance at her family, Emma took the slip of paper and tucked it into her shirt. “I will. Thanks.”

"Well, until next year, Swan," Killian said, sticking his hand out.

She laughed, shaking her head. And then she hugged him.

Killian hugged her back, feeling a little bad that he was already counting down the days until Liam would bring him back to this platform. He couldn’t help it, though.

"Don't forget to call.” Squaring her shoulders, she pushed her trolley in the Dursleys’ direction. Her fat cousin cowered behind his wasp-waisted mother as she approached.

“I wonder what happened there.��

"Who knows?" Liam drawled, slinging his arm around Killian's shoulders. "So… it appears my baby brother has found himself a girlfriend."

"What?" Killian blushed, his ears going warm. "Ew! Liam you're the worst."

His brother laughed, holding his hands up. "Teasing, little brother. I'm teasing."

"That’s still gross."

"Keep thinking that, Killian. It’ll make my life considerably easier," Liam said, lifting his trunk off the trolley. It was a little fuller than it had been at the start of term, but his brother still had no trouble balancing the thing on his shoulders. "Because I'd hate to have to get a job at Hogwarts to keep an eye on you."

Killian snorted. "You'd be so bored. Hardly anything happens at school. It's all classes and homework."

"And defeating the Dark One apparently..."

"That was all Emma. And it won't be like that next year, anyways."

Liam paused, swinging around so he could see Killian.

The silence lasted a moment and Killian got the sneaking suspicion that his brother wanted to bring up what happened beneath the school. He looked very sad.

"I hope not," he said finally. And he smiled. "Now, hurry up. You’ve got a new flat to see.”

"Alright!"

Liam headed for the bus station, Killian trotting beside him and jabbering about everything he had learned at Hogwarts. His brother wasn’t surprised by anything. Not the fact that Professor McGonagall could turn into a cat. Or that Snape was such a wanker. He listened patiently, stopping Killian only while they were on the bus. As they walked the rest of the way home, Killian found himself talking about his harried night under the school without prompting. He wanted Liam to know all about how brave his friends were. Liam looked grim at that part, but it made sense, Emma had almost died, after all.

They reached a little neighborhood, with shrubs around the houses and yards with toys strewn all over them. It wasn’t rundown, but it was the ritziest place Killian had ever seen. It felt quaint after the grandeur of Hogwarts, but Killian decided he liked it.

“Liam,” he said as they passed yet another house, “I thought you said you got a flat.”

“Flats are expensive in the city,” Liam returned.

“Aren’t houses more expensive?”

“They are indeed, but we aren’t living in a house.”

Despite what he said, he turned in at a drive that was very much attached to a house. An old lady knelt in the garden, working with a rose bush. She put down her garden shears as Killian and Liam came into the yard.

“Hello, there Liam, is this your brother?” she asked.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Wendy,” Liam replied. “Yes, this is Killian. Killian this is Mrs. Wendy, she owns the house.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Killian said holding out his hand.

“Oh and he has manners, too,” Mrs. Wendy said, pulling off one of her gardening gloves to shake Killian’s hand. “Well, I won’t keep you boys, I’m sure you’re tired from your journey.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Liam said. He nodded and let Killian over to the side of the garage.

The garage was a two story yellow building, with wooden siding and a rickety looking staircase. It held, though, as Killian followed Liam up to the second floor. His brother let them in, setting the trunk down at the door.

Killian stood in the doorway, taking it all in. They were in a living room that had clearly been decorated by the old lady he had just met. The overstuffed couch and armchairs had lace doilies draped across their backs and arms. There was a little coffee table with a tea set on, a porcelain set with naked cherubs painted on the sides. The walls were painted a cheerful yellow, paler than the yellow on the outside. There were hints of his brother here, too. A stack of books sitting on the table. A shirt draped over the back of a chair, obscuring one of the doilies.

Liam pulled him inside and closed the door.

“That’s the kitchen,” he said, gesturing to a tiled room, identifiable by the mint green refrigerator visible just inside the door. “And this is the bathroom.” He opened the next door, revealing a blue room with floral tile accents. “And this is your room.”

Killian’s room was much like the rest of the flat, filled with flowers and pastel colors. The bed had a quilt on it that looked handmade and there was a doily stitched to his pillowcase.

“I know it’s probably not quite what you hoped,” Liam started.

“No, it’s perfect, Liam.” He hugged his brother.

Liam snorted. “I wouldn’t exactly call it perfect.”

“You’re here, brother,” Killian said, “that’s all I need.”

Liam opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, choosing to hug Killian tighter instead.

“You can put your things in that dresser over there,” Liam said. “Why don’t we go get them?”

As Killian followed his brother back into the living room, he noticed something. There was the kitchen and the bathroom and they just left his room, but he didn’t see a door for Liam’s room. And there hadn’t been a second bed in Killian’s room.

“Liam, where is your room?”

Liam stopped, scratching behind his ear. “Well, for now...” He looked around them.

Killian finally noticed the pillow and the blanket folded at the end of the couch.

“You can’t sleep out here!” Killian said. “It’s not fair.”

Liam shrugged. “I’m not spending most of my year with four roommates. I can put up with the couch for a few weeks.”

“But…”

“No buts, Killian, I’m the older brother and it’s my right to sleep where I want.” He ruffled Killian’s hair. “And once you’re gone, that room is all mine. Got it?”

Killian laughed. “Got it.”

It was cozy in the little apartment. Dinner was nice. Nothing like he had at Hogwarts—Liam was a mediocre cook at best—but he got to help make it, so he thought it tasted better.

When Liam finally sent him off to bed, he thought he’d be able to fall asleep right away. But no matter how he lay, the cushioned mattress didn’t feel right. And the blankets were too hot, no matter how many of them he kicked off. And the pillow was lumpy.

And he was lonely.

At last, he got up and padded out into the living room.

Liam was sprawled on the couch’s fold out bed, but Killian thought there was just enough room for him. Quietly, trying not to disturb his brother, Killian climbed in with him. The springs creaked. Killian froze.

Liam snorted and shook himself awake. “Killian?” He sat up. “Everything okay?”

Killian didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling, so he shrugged. “Can I sleep out here with you?”

Liam scooted over without a word, lifting the covers for Killian to crawl under with him. They settled down again, sharing the single pillow. Silence fell and Killian started to drift off.

“Killian?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to promise me something.”

Killian didn’t say anything to that, waiting.

Liam swallowed. “Listen, I’m glad you found friends and they sound like incredible kids, but next year…” More silence stretched, heavy, like a winter blanket. “Next year, I want you to be more careful, okay? No more fighting Dark Ones.” His brother wrapped his arms around Killian, squeezing him close. “Being brave is all well and good, Killian, but I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. Okay?”

“Okay.” Killian nodded. He didn’t know what he would do without his brother either. “Hey, Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we could go visit Mom sometime soon?”

Another moment of silence.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll do that soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Sleep now, Killian.”

Killian did.

#captain swan #csbb #emma swan #killian jones #cs crew

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mickey-milkovichs · 7 years

Text

to survive in peace and harmony ch. 1 - faith/buffy

~As the Scoobies are preparing for the battle with The First, Buffy is also dealing with her own problems such as 1) training the potentials and trying not to die, 2) Faith being back in town and 3) a never before heard of demon that is somehow able to kill her every night in her dreams. But what happens when Faith is apparently the only one who can slay the demon? Will they be able to move beyond their past in order to help each other? And what about the weird feelings they have to deal with when they're forced to share a bed...

(Season 7 shameless, angsty forced bedsharing AU!) ** warning for canon typical violence **

also on ao3!

He—or it—is coming at her again. The gelatinous blob rolls itself forward in a heaving motion and another mass bubbles up into existence right next to her. Its electric green tentacle, dripping pus from its many open orifices, swipes at her, narrowly missing the soft skin on the front of her neck. Buffy swings her sword at it again, but as usual, it passes through the being without causing even the slightest damage whatsoever. The green thing (monster, demon, God Buffy has no fucking idea) is spilling towards Buffy at rapid speeds now, looking almost like a giant sized river of green jelly running down someone’s giant sized cafeteria tray. Except Buffy knows better, and she knows what’s coming next. But not this time. She drops the sword and runs.

She runs and runs and runs, through the unfamiliar, empty city, so creepy and devoid of life, so far that her lungs feel like they’re about to burst and her legs are quivering. She almost thinks she’s made it this time, until she feels the icy cold goo run over her right foot and grab hold. It yanks her ankle and she pitches forward instantly, just managing not to smash her face on the asphalt highway as she catches herself with her hands. She can feel the wet mass slinking up over her back, slowly now, now that it knows that it has her, and she gives up. She allows her body to sink into the road and rest, finally. It’ll be over quickly. The slime slowly covers her form. It spreads out over the pavement until she’s completely encased, and then slowly, almost with a grotesque attempt at seduction, it starts filling her mouth. Even though Buffy knows that nothing will work, her body can’t help but try not to be invaded. Her stomach convulses as Buffy attempts to spit out the disgusting fluid, and when it doesn’t work she starts choking and coughing, trying to force the disgusting stuff back out of her throat. That doesn’t work either, and soon she can feel her entire body swelling, being consumed with and by the neon sludge. She’s growing light headed as her airway is completely cut off. Her head grows fuzzy and her eyes become clouded with black spots, and she feels the by-now familiar death spams beginning. It’s different from her other deaths. More violent, more visceral, more violating. The pus starts burning her organs away, but thankfully she’s unaware as her eyes roll back in her head and her chest stops moving. Buffy is dead.

Buffy stifles a scream and shoots up into a sitting position in her bed. She’s gasping for air, shaking as the memory of the dream runs through her mind over and over. She pulls the white sheet down off of her hot chest and wipes her trembling hand over her face, finding it damp with tears.

Well this is getting really freaking old, she thinks sarcastically, even as she’s trying to get control on her body’s outward signs of terror. She allows herself a few minutes to catch her breath, then hops out of bed, determined to clean up and scrub away any traces of the dream off her body before she goes back downstairs. They still have an apocalypse to deal with after all. Plus everyone will worry if they see her all freaked, especially Dawn. If there’s anything Buffy can do to ensure that her sister is not more scared then she has to be during this shit storm, she’ll do it. As she steps into the shower she notices that her right ankle is throbbing. Buffy looks down and sees that it’s puffy and swollen. It feels fractured, maybe broken, and the vaguely sick, achy feeling that her body’s developed over the last few days has gotten worse. Great.

Once Buffy’s washed and dressed she tip toes down the stairs, and takes a deep breath before plunging into the dire atmosphere of the living room. Even the fearless leader gets intimidated during let’s-all-discuss-how-we-can-possibly-not-die-y times. The group is huddled over some books that Giles has brought over. Willow is murmuring quietly in a worried tone, Kennedy standing behind her with a comforting hand on her shoulder. Xander is hunched over with his hand covering his mouth and chin, with Anya pretending to study a book while sneaking peeks at him.

“Buff! Nap time over?” Xander asks as he shakes himself from his worried state and notices her walking into the room. Buffy takes care not to limp or show any signs of pain.

“Yeah…. I’m rested enough for now,” Buffy replies as cheerfully as she can as she lowers herself into an armchair in the circle. “I figured I needed to stop slacking and come back down here and get cracking.” She frowns at her unintentional rhyme.

“You’re a poet!” Dawn crows as she laughs at Buffy’s embarrassed frowny face.

“I don’t think so. More like an...rhymey-word-user-person,” Buffy tries to quickly divert attention away as Dawn keeps laughing at her. “Anyway. Willow, what were you talking about just now?”

“Um...well, another potential’s dead. Her name was Jessica, she had almost made it to us...but they caught her running on foot just outside of Sunnydale. And Spike found a giant underground nest of ubervamps. He couldn’t take care of it himself, so he thinks we should gather up a group and go later. But...what about you? Any...dream wigginess?”

“There was...a little bit of dream wigginess,” Buffy answers reluctantly. She hates making people worry about her. She really wishes she had better news, and that Dawn wasn’t here to hear this right now. Sure, she may be as old as many of the potentials, but she’s her little sister, her responsibility.

Willow’s brow wrinkles anxiously. “Did you...die again?”

“Yeah. Same old, same old. They’re just dreams though, Will. Definitely not more pressing than the impending apocalypse. I’m almost getting bored of them actually. This guy’s gonna have to whip up something a little more original if he wants to get to me.” She hopes she’s hiding how scared and tired and defeated she actually is. She hasn’t told them about the aches and pains. Now’s so not the time to be Drama Buffy, she has to be Army Leader Buffy. Maybe she should have stayed with Riley. Aren’t boyfriends supposed to pick up the slack for their significant others, or is that exclusive to normal girls?

“Yes, of course, however it is concerning, Buffy,” Giles states as he rubs at the lens of his glasses. “Even in dreams, a monster defeating you over and over is quite unusual, and worrisome. The coincidence of the timing cannot be overlooked. If The First should have something to do with this, it could prove to be...extremely dangerous. And once we figure out what it’s plan is it might be too late. It bears looking into.”

“We’ve looked into it, Giles. And we can’t find any information on a giant gooey green demon thingy that can kill people in their dreams anywhere. If it is The First attacking, we have to focus on it’s more pressing forms of attack first: the ubervamps and the bringers. Girls are dying. And if it’s not The First, then the dreams can definitely wait. I’ll be fine.” General Buffy was out, and she wasn’t about to argue.

Giles purses his lips and adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose, but neglects to reply. Willow bites her lip and glances around the group uneasily. Dawn crosses her arms over her chest and sticks her bottom lip out in the patented Summers’ Pout, staring at Buffy with big blue eyes that seem to say you’re being dumb and an idiot.

“Look, Buffy, I’m gonna say what everyone else here is thinking,” Kennedy speaks up in a loud voice. “Don’t be a martyr. You want to make sure you do your job and that girls stop dying on your watch and that we kick this bitch in the ass, cool. But don’t go hurting yourself to make it happen. ‘Cause if we end up taking a fall ‘cause our de facto leader is compromised because she feels the need to crucify herself, that’ll be really stupid.”

Buffy closes her eyes and blows her breath out, trying to tame her annoyance so she won’t snap at the potential. “That’s not what I’m doing, Kennedy, but thanks as always for your input. We have no leads on this dream stuff. We do, however, have leads on the other stuff. So that’s what I’m suggesting we focus on. If you come up with a better plan, make sure to let me know,” Buffy looks intently at Kennedy, who just stares back. “Great,” Buffy turns her gaze to Willow, “now, where’s Spike? Let’s come up with a plan for taking out this vamp nest. And...Faith? She should probably be here if she actually wants to help.” Buffy’s still having a hard time with this whole Faith being around thing, but she’s trying to hide it, or at least not make it super obvious. It probably isn’t working though. But Jesus, Faith just waltzes back into her life, bringing all of her usual chaos along for the ride and all of Buffy’s old negative feelings back up to the surface, basically throwing gas on the forest fire that is this entire situation, and everyone just expects Buffy to be totally cool with it?

“Spike will be back soon. He’s checking that any stray ubervamps from the nest haven’t wandered too close to camp. He said he’ll take out any individual ones he sees, and come get us for groups. I sent Faith grocery shopping—or more like grocery looting—with the potentials. They should be back soon too.”

“I bet she’s having fun with that,” Buffy cracks a small smile thinking about Faith trying to manage dozens of rowdy teens in an abandoned shopping center. Serves her right.

#fuffy #faith lehane #buffy summers #faith x buffy #btvs #fanfic #fanfiction #buffy x faith #mine #my writing #violence //

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credence-needs-a-hug · 8 years

Text

Jealousy kills in the a.m

A/N) this is another text post continuation. If you haven't read the latest text post on the blog, go to @sirius-and-remus-texting The blog is made by me and @its-always-you--john-watson She has a ton of different accounts so go follow her. Enjoy!! Sirius saw red. His face was contorted in rage. He stormed to the common room, leaving Chloe behind him, baffled. He could he? How the hell could he just go out and find someone else? What the hell was wrong with him, thinking he would flirt with some girl? It had been pretty obvious that she had been coming on to him, but he wasn't interested. It had been a couple weeks since they had said they loved each other, and Sirius had still been on a high. But now he was lower than low. Remus just had a backup. How could he not be hurt by that? And who was this 'Alex'? When did they date? Why had Sirius never heard about it? He was left in a pool of confusion as he watched Remus stare him down with a smug look on his face. And then he had made it worse by asking Chloe to go with him. This was just horrible. He didn't want to go with Chloe. He wanted to go with his Remus. Well, not his yet. They had confessed love for each other, sure. But nothing had happened after that. They hadn't really figured out where they were with each other. And Sirius was left wondering if he overreacted. But he couldn't know for sure. It was too confusing. When the time came for him to go pick up Chloe, Sirius was sitting in the common room with a dark look on his face. He was wearing dark rinsed ripped jeans and an olive green tee shirt with his leather jacket over it. His eyes were adorned with his signature gold eyeliner, his hair in gentle waves down his neck. He pushed himself off the couch and stalked down the halls to the main door, where Chloe was waiting for him. She looked very pretty with her long brown hair in curls, her makeup done lightly, and her knee length blue dress. But Sirius didn't care. He wanted to see Remus. He forced a smile onto his face and walked over. "Hey, someone looks gorgeous tonight!" He said. She blushed lightly. "You don't look too shabby yourself," she replied. They began their walk in silence as Sirius fumed. When they were half way there, Chloe turned to him. "You gonna be okay? I know you and Remus had some sort of argument," she said. Sirius bit the inside of his cheek before answering. "No, no it's good. We're all good. Just enjoy the night," he forced out. She looked at him for a moment before shaking her head lightly and smiling. They continued on their way to the whomping willow, where Sirius went through the routine he had gone through so many times of freezing the tree and sliding beneath it before helping Chloe get through. They heard the music before they got there. It echoed through the dirt hole that they walked through, and Sirius could feel it vibrating his body. They continued and soon emerged on the other side, where James greeted them with wide arms. "Pads!" He yelled, sending a confused glance at Chloe before shaking it off. "And who is this lovely young lady?" "This is Chloe," Sirius said. "She's my... date," he choked over the last word. James furrowed his brow slightly, but said nothing. "Welcome! Enjoy yourself! And don't tell anyone unless you want me hunting you down," he winked. Chloe chuckled. "Haha I'm serious," he muttered as he walked away, joining Lily, who was casting glances at Sirius. Remus must have told her what happened. Sirius casted his eyes around the room. There were a few trusted friends, Mary, Dorcas, Alice, Frank. They were all mingling and chatting. Sirius sighed. Remus wasn't there yet. "I'll go get us drinks," he told Chloe. He walked over to the drinks table, avoiding conversation before picking up two butter beers and turning around. It was like magnets had been placed on his eyes as they stuck to the door. Like all the air had been sucked out of the room at his arrival. Remus, head almost brimming the doorway, was standing right there. Sirius felt a tension he didn't know he had been holding, release from his body. Like all the anger he had felt that day suddenly sank to the lowest part of his brain to make room for this euphoria that was the sight of Remus. A baby blue sweater hung from Remus' shoulders, almost two sizes too big. He wore skinny jeans underneath or it that were also light with subtle rips along the thighs. His hair was partially covering his face, more on the side with the scar. With his hands tucked in front of his waist, he looked innocent and sweet. His lip was pulled between his teeth, and his eyes were searching the room. When they found Sirius, an emotion passed through them that Sirius was too far away to decipher. But Remus turned his head behind himself and said something to the figure approaching the doorway. The pressure returned, but three times heavier when he saw who entered behind Remus. A boy almost a little taller than Sirius, and way hotter, Sirius bitterly growled to himself, entered the room. He had his hands stuffed into the back pockets of his jeans and a tight fitted black tee shirt hugged his chest. He was lean and muscular, very fit looking. His deep brown eyes matched his hair in shade, and his caramel colored skin made him a sight no one would have been glad to miss. He was smirking at Remus, who was looking at the ground between them. Sirius turned his back to the picture. He couldn't bear it, seeing Remus with some other guy. It was too... wrong. He grabbed the drinks and returned to Chloe, who had started a conversation with Mary. But they, too were staring at the door. "Wow," Mary said, eyes wide. She looked at Sirius in shock. "It hurts. Like looking into the sun for too long." Sirius glared at the boy next to Remus, and shoved the drink at Mary. He didn't say a word as he drowned his, noticing carelessly that someone had spiked the drinks. He slammed the cup down on the table behind him. When he turned around, he was face to face with Remus' date. He jumped back in surprise, almost hissing in shock. The boy tried to suppress his laugh, covering it poorly with a laugh. "Hey Mary!" Remus said in a friendly voice. "Hello," Mary replied, eyes glued to the boy next to Remus. "This is Alex, my date," he said with a smile. Alex inclined his head at Mary and then at Chloe. "Hi," he said, his voice a deep baritone. Sirius averted his eyes to the ground. "Sirius, you didn't say hi," he heard Remus say. His lip formed a slight growl before he lifted his head. A sarcastic smile formed on his lips. "Hey there, Alex. Hope you're well," he sneered before turning on his heel and walking away. He stalked to the stairs where Lily and James were sitting. "I can't believe the nerve how dare-" he grumbled. Lily laughed. "You good, there, Padfoot?" She asked. Sirius turned his head to her, anger vibrating from his features. "No. I'm not good, lily. The guy I've been crushing on for the past four years knows I love him and is dancing with another guy," he just about yelled. Luckily, the music was so loud that no one heard him. The music. Sirius' eyes lit up in a delightfully scary anger. The song had changed, and Sirius knew it was time for revenge. Iris by the goo goo dolls pumped through the speakers. It was Remus' favorite song. Sirius wiped over to Chloe, grabbed her hand, and all but dragged her to the middle of the room where people were dancing. Shocked, it took her a minute to convince her limbs to move in a dancing fashion. Sirius caste a look at Remus, who was staring at him with a hurt expression. He forced the sadness out of his gut, but it began forcing his way up his throat. He twirled around until the song came to an end, keeping his eyes anywhere but on Remus. When the song ended, he hugged Chloe close to his chest and held her hand as they walked back to Mary. He smirked evilly as he continued his conversation until he heard Remus' voice. "Yeah, my old friends had some issues. Like flees for example," Remus said loudly. Sirius turned to see Remus surrounded by some of their friends, James and Lily and Peter included. "Always whining, always dramatic. Probably got it from being the least loved child." Remus added, sending a poison glare at Sirius. Everyone in the group turned to look at him, and suddenly, he was drowning. The eyes followed him as he left the room and ran out the front door of the shack into the warm spring air. Hot tears rolled down his face as anger exploded inside of him. He fumbled around in his pocket for his cigarettes. Remus hated it when he smoked. He lit one and inhaled as he watched the smoke travel into the dark sky and meld with it. The moon shone bright above him. His stomach twisted. He inhaled deeply again and tried to stop the sob from escaping him, doing so poorly and feeling it catch in his throat. Anyone but Remus, he thought. If anyone but Remus had said that, he wouldn't have cared. Probably would have laughed. But the violence in Remus' eyes made it clear that he was trying to cut Sirius. And, as much as he hated to admit it, it worked. "Sirius," a voice said from behind him. He turned sharply away from the voice, mostly to hide his tears. "No," he whispered. "Don't." A hand touched his back and he recoiled. "Don't you dare," he hissed. The hand released his shoulder. "Sirius, can you listen to me?" Remus begged. Sirius let out a humorless laugh. "I was listening. Don't come too close, Lupin. You might catch my fleas," he spat venomously. He heard Remus let out a shaky sigh and tried to ignore the urge to turn to him and hold him tight to stop the pain. "You should go back to your entourage. I bet your new boyfriend is wondering where you are," Sirius muttered, hunching his back against Remus' eyes. "No," remus growled. "What do you mea-" Sirius was cut off by Remus spinning him around. Suddenly, lips were on his own, needy and desperate and Sirius instantly melted, nearly allowing his knees to drop from under him. Remus threaded his fingers into Sirius' hair and deepened the kiss when Sirius suddenly realized that this was wrong. He shoved Remus away, almost whining at the loss of contact. His stomach clenched again and he realized it had only stopped when Remus grabbed him. "No!" He all but yelled. "That was a dirty trick!" Remus clenched his teeth, his jaw jutting out. His eyes darkened, a single strand of hair over his forehead dancing between them. "I need you to listen to me," he yelled in a guttural voice. "I need you to understand that I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry, Sirius." Sirius shook his head, fresh tears tumbling down his cheeks. "No. You can't just say sorry, Remus. It's still not okay," he whimpered. "Sirius, how the he'll else was I supposed to get your attention?!" Remus yelled. Sirius sniffled. "What?" He whispered. "You flirting with Chloe sent me off! You told me you loved me, and then what? Nothing happened! I didn't know what we were and you expected me to sit by while you flirted and laughed like I wasn't even there?" Remus screamed in frustration. Sirius' jaw had dropped about half way through that rant. He was the one who had been stuck wondering what they were to each other. He was the one who had been tiptoeing around lately, trying to avoid pressuring Remus. "Who's fault was it that we didn't go anywhere?" Sirius screamed back at him. "Every day I watched you go about your life like nothing even happened! You never even hinted that you wanted- And flirting? With CHLOE? I WOULD NEVER DO THAT! WHAT THE HELL KIND OF PERSON DO YOU THINK I AM?" Sirius began to breath shallow and loud. The silence between them was filled by the thumping music from inside, which must have been drowning out their screaming match. A soft wind whistled through the tress next to the shack. Remus and Sirius stared at each other, eyes wide, as they took in the words jut exchanged. Remus was the first to break the silence. "So... you wanted us to be... us, this whole time?" He whispered, sounding defeated. Sirius let out a gaspy laugh. "Yes," he said. "Of course. You're all I've ever wanted, Remus." Remus smiled. And then he laughed. And then he laughed a little more. Sirius began worrying whether or not he had just hopped the train to crazy town. His eyes were spiraling in different directions, his mouth wide with a strange kind of mirth. "R-Remus?" Sirius tried. Remus began gulping down air as he calmed himself down. All at once, he rushed to Sirius. Sirius let out a surprised yelp as he was enveloped in Remus' arms. He wrapped his arms around remus' neck as remus wrapped his own around Sirius' waist, burying his face in his neck. "This whole time," Remus repeated, muddled by Sirius' hair. "This whole time." When they broke apart, both were smiling, wide and happy. The tightness in Sirius' chest disappeared. It was replaced with a sweet and gooey feeling. Sirius placed his hands on remus' cheeks, feeling the bones that stood sharply, and then running his fingers over the jaw. Remus was gazing down at him and running his hands through Sirius' hair. "Sirius, I love you," he said. Sirius felt as through his face could split from how wide he was smiling. "I love you, too," he whispered. Sirius lifted to his tiptoes and pressed his lips to remus'. There was no desperation this time. Just pure joy. A sweetness to their lips. It left Sirius' stomach in knots. "So are we, like, boyfriend boyfriend now?" Sirius asked in a girly voice. Remus laughed. "Yeah," he said sweetly. "I think we are." They broke apart, staring at each other once again. "What do we tell Chloe and Alex?" Sirius asked. Remus' face turned panicked for a second. "Oh yeah," he muttered. "They'll understand," Sirius tried to promise, just because he didn't want Remus worrying. "Okay," Remus said, uncertainty still clear in his voice. Hand in hand, they walked back through the door together. Eyes all over the room turned to them, and Sirius suddenly became aware of the fact that there were still traces of crying in his face. He ducked his head, but felt a hand lift his chin. "It's okay," Remus whispered. Sirius took a breath. It was okay. Because Remus was his and they were next to each other. When they approached Alex, they were surprised to see Chloe standing there with him. "Hey," remus said, his confusion pretty clear in his voice. "Hi!" Alex replied, sounding rather chipper. "Hi," Sirius said. Chloe looked up at him shyly. "Hello," she said. Sirius glanced down to where Chloe was keeping her eyes to notice that her hand was linked with Alex's. "Oh," he said in surprise. Remus followed his glance. "Oh," he whispered. "So are you two-" Sirius began. "You guys were busy," Chloe rushed out, looking at Alex for backup. He looked between her and Sirius and Remus. "Yeah," he said lamely. Remus raised his eyebrows at Sirius. "Hey, excuse me," Chloe said suddenly. "We aren't the only ones!" She pointed to Sirius and Remus' hands. "Besides," she continued, her voice becoming quieter. "You two are kind of perfect." She offered them a sweet smile, which they returned. "Well, you two seem pretty perfect, too" Remus interjected. "Do you guys know each other well?" He asked. "We were partners in defense against the dark arts for that dementor project," Alex said. "Ah," Remus replied. Suddenly, James called out over the crowd. "ABOUT DAMN TIME!" Sirius and Remus looked over to him. "LILY, YOU OWE ME FIVE SICKLES! THEY STARTED DATING BEFORE WINTER!" Sirius and Remus laughed, blushing. Then they took to the dance floor. "I made a request," Remus said. "I think you owe me this song." Iris began to play through the speakers for the second time that night. Remus sent a wink over to Peter, who was standing by the cds. A girl wondered over to where Peter was standing with s cup, which she handed to him. "That must be the girl," Sirius whispered. They looked for a moment before turning their eyes to each other. "I'm sorry," Sirius said. "For all of this," Remus shook his head. "No, this was my fault. I knew you weren't flirting with Chloe. I just, I don't know-" "It's okay," Sirius promised. Remus smiled in relief before pressing his hands to the small of Sirius' back, and twirling him around the dance floor. They spent the rest of the night dancing, staring at each other. They didn't. Stop touching once, not even as they stumbled through the dorm door at 3 in the morning and layed down in Remus' bed, where they cuddled and fell asleep together. Remus, with his nose in Sirius' hair and Sirius with his lips pressed to remus' neck.

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